Misdirection
by Bobbi Rambles
Summary: Malec AU. Magnus sends a text to a mysterious stranger while trying to get back at his ex-girlfriend. Alec receives a text from a mysterious stranger while just trying to get through law school. Everyone knows how sexy mysterious strangers are, and everyone knows how easy it is to fall in love despite other plans.
1. A Friend in Need

**A/N: I don't pretend to be original with the idea of a Wrong Number romance fic, but I have yet to come across a Malec chaptered fic that does the Wrong Number thing (and I have read a LOT of Malec fanfiction) so I figured I might as well write it myself.**

 **Some notes about my experience with the Shadowhunter World: I never started watching the TV show because my parents exist (that'll change when I move out this fall, hopefully). I honestly pretend that TMI ended at City of Glass (because it SHOULD HAVE) even though I've read all six, and I also am not a fan of Cassandra Clare as a person so I never read any of her Shadowhunter stuff besides TMI and TID. That's why I'm writing this fic as a complete AU away from Shadowhunter land- my favorite thing about Shadowhunters is Malec, no contest. If any of the above makes you decide you don't wanna read anything written by me, fine. Just don't send me hate about it, and we can all get along great.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm a senior in high school not cassie lol**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Friend In Need**

Magnus, Ragnor decided, really needed to learn about the five stages of grief.

Well, not so much learn about them. More like, Magnus really needed to go through the five stages of grief like the damn adult that he was, for God's sake. This was at least the third time he and Camille had called it quits, and probably the fifth time overall that he'd had a (semi-)serious relationship end, and every single time he reacted to it as badly as if he had never been through a breakup before. At age 24, it was getting ridiculous.

"Magnus," Ragnor said loudly, hoping his tone and face didn't betray how simultaneously embarrassed and murderous he felt, "please put your pants back on, give the bartender the liquor hose back, and get off the bar!"

Magnus, of course, either didn't hear him or didn't care. Ragnor's money was on the former, seeing as Magnus was surrounded by only slightly less drunk college students who were having the time of their lives watching Magnus's antics and eagerly cheering him on. Ragnor swore someday he would stop letting Magnus come to the NYU bars, but he supposed it was better than risking the possibility of running into any of Magnus's coworkers by going to a bar frequented by adults.

Magnus, for his part, looked surprisingly good for someone blackout drunk and grieving over a breakup. Ragnor really didn't want to know how his friend had gotten his skinny leather pants off without removing his black combat boots, but he had managed it somehow, and was busy alternating between dancing and straight up twerking for all he was worth in the black booty shorts he'd had on underneath his pants for some godforsaken reason. He'd ditched his orange jacket long ago as well- Ragnor had it slung over his left arm, although he had yet to locate the pants- and the silver mesh tank top he was wearing seemed to catch the light just right as he moved his body and swung the liquor hose that appeared to still be spraying beer. Ragnor briefly wondered why the bartender hadn't had the sense to turn off the damn beer tap already, but considering Magnus's current condition, he wouldn't be surprised if the bartender was simply too shocked to do anything but yell at Magnus to get down. This was an excessive performance, even for a college bar. Ragnor assumed shock was the only reason the cops hadn't shown up yet.

Sighing, he shouldered his way through the crowd surrounding Magnus, smartly sidestepping a girl who bent over to vomit and a boy who tried to grab at his ass. He knew he looked good, and there would have been a time, but it was 2:45 a.m. on a Tuesday. Ragnor had class in the morning, and Magnus had work. Finally, he made to the bar, wincing and holding up the orange jacket for shelter as beer splattered into his green-streaked silver hair.

"Magnus!" Ragnor reached out and grabbed at his friend's leg. "Magnus!" The young man in question looked down to examine what was obstructing his leg, and Ragnor breathed a sigh of relief at making some progress.

"Magnus! Magnus! Magnus!" the college students started chanting his name, and Magnus grinned and started swinging his hips far more energetically, breaking Ragnor's hold. The silver-haired man let out a long-suffering sigh. Fine. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Magnus, let me up with you!" Ragnor called out, plastering a grin on his face and hoping he sounded genuinely enthusiastic. Magnus hated his friend trying to calm him down, but he loved it whenever he thought he'd finally convinced Ragnor to loosen up and have some fun.

Magnus whooped loudly, moving over and reaching down to help pull Ragnor up. He had a surprising amount of coordination for someone so indisputably drunk. The crowd cheered as Ragnor took up a position next to his friend, and Magnus immediately began grinding on him. Ragnor grit his teeth and went along with it, swinging the orange jacket over his head, much to the delight of the crowd. He broke away from Magnus and grabbed the hose from his hand, replacing it with the jacket. Ignoring the man's happy cry of "My jacket!", Ragnor aimed the hose at the cheering crowd and blasted a clear path to the exit before throwing the hose at the hapless bartender. He hooked an arm around Magnus's neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Ever been crowd-surfing, Mags?"

Magnus's eyes widened. "Ooh, let's!" he squealed delightedly. "It'll be so much fun!"

Ragnor had different ideas, considering how _drunk_ the crowd was, but it was the only way to get Magnus off the bar while keeping his mood up. He had a tendency to start crying whenever people tried to use force on him while he was drunk, and Ragnor was not in the mood to deal with that.

"We'll jump on the count of three, okay? Hold onto your jacket!" Ragnor had no idea where the pants were, and he figured Magnus would throw a fit in the morning over the missing pants and the beer on his favorite orange jacket, but there was nothing to be done about it. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Magnus whooped and leapt into the crowd of NYU students with wild abandon, but thankfully they had the sense to catch him and the drunkenness to start passing him over their heads. Ragnor landed neatly on the ground on his own two feet, running along the path he'd cleared that was starting to be overtaken by drunk college kids again. A smart elbow here and there, and he was able to battle his way to the outskirts of the crowd in time to receive Magnus.

"Raggie, that was so much fun!" Magnus hiccuped, reverting to the nickname for Ragnor he only used when he was severely drunk or severely wanting to die.

"I know, I know," Ragnor rolled his eyes. "And now for the grand exit!"

"What's the grand exit?"

"Disappearing before the eyes of your fans!" Ragnor replied, pulling Magnus through the door and away from the chaos of the bar.

The chill of the September evening attacked them almost immediately. Fortunately, Magnus was still too drunk to start bitching about the cold or Camille. Unfortunately, that meant Ragnor was instead subject to listening to him ramble about the fun he'd just had. Ragnor kept an arm wrapped around his friend's waist to keep him upright and helped him stagger along, praying Magnus would keep it together long enough for them to get into an Uber back to Brooklyn. He really needed to stop letting Magnus come out to Manhattan to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

Abruptly, Magnus stopped babbling and held still. Ragnor bit his tongue to keep from swearing at the pause in their progress. "What's wrong?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as pissed off as he felt.

Magnus was staring straight ahead at a blonde woman wearing a red coat and black heels, her back turned to them. It wasn't Camille- Ragnor would have rather incinerated on the spot than deal with the mess that was Magnus seeing Camille less than 24 hours after she dumped him- but the color scheme and posture of the woman was enough to create a resemblance from afar, and to a drunk Magnus the resemblance was even more striking.

"Camille…" he whimpered, tears rapidly welling up.

"Magnus, listen to me," Ragnor gripped his friend by the shoulders and turned him so they were face-to-face. "I know you don't want to hear this now, but Camille was a bitch. I guarantee you can and will find someone ten times hotter and sweeter than her any time you feel like it. You have to understand that."

Camille had been a huge part of Magnus's life since college, toying with him for a full three years and breaking off their "relationship" twice before tonight. Ragnor prayed this break would be the one that stuck, and Magnus could finally lock her out of his life and find someone better.

"Could I find someone right now?" Magnus asked, sniffling and peering at the blonde walking away. He was clearly looking to make Camille jealous and win her back. That was what had happened the past two times they'd broken up. It was an unhealthy strategy, but Ragnor knew there was no point in trying to talk Magnus out of it while he was drunk.

Instead, Ragnor looked the young man up and down, taking in the orange jacket and booty shorts again. "Sure you could. . ." he trailed off. Magnus' bottom lip began to tremble, and Ragnor quickly rectified his mistake. "Tell you what, we'll start by getting you someone's number tonight. Tomorrow, we'll get on Tinder and find you an actual date if you don't like whoever you meet now. Sound good?"

Magnus nodded.

"All right! What are you looking for tonight?" Ragnor slung an arm around his friend's shoulder, trying to breath through his mouth to avoid the stench coming off him.

"I want a guy." Magnus said almost instantly.

Damn it. A girl would have been easier to chat up, but Camille always got jealous of guys with Magnus more than girls. "Can do. Anything else?"

Magnus thought for a moment. "I like blue eyes," he said reflectively, "but I don't think there's anything else."

"We can work with that!" Trying to keep his enthusiasm up, Ragnor swept his gaze along the street. "Here, let's hit one last bar and get a number."

"Okay," Magnus brightened up a little. "Watch me turn on the charm, Raggie."

'The charm' turned out to be Magnus talking to one handsome twenty-something with black hair and startling blue eyes for about thirty seconds before promptly puking on his shoes and passing out. Ragnor apologized profusely, but thankfully the man didn't seem to be too upset once he got past the initial disgust.

"Don't worry about it," he waved off Ragnor's offer to pay to replace his shoes, although his nose was still wrinkled. He had a lilting British accent, and combined with those eyes, it was no wonder Magnus had gone straight for him. "We've all had to deal with a friend on one of _those_ nights."

"Usually, this idiot _is_ the friend on one of _those_ nights, so he would know," Another accented voice piped up from behind Ragnor, and he turned around to see an Asian boy with silver hair and a slender face looking quite irritated. "I leave for two minutes, and you end up with vomit on your new shoes?"

"Calm down, we were just having some fun." The blue-eyed stranger gave his friend a half-smile. "Get him home safe, he'll thank you eventually." He said to Ragnor, gesturing at Magnus passed out with his head on the bar.

"Not for a few months," the Asian grumbled. He glanced at Magnus. "Need some help with him?"

Ragnor shook his head, already pulling out his phone and summoning an Uber. "I've got him, thanks. I've had to do this enough times. Can I ask you for a favor, though?" He looked up at the blue-eyed man.

"Sure. Doesn't mean I'll do you a favor," he responded smartly, ignoring the Asian's swat at his shoulder.

"Can you give him a phone number? Not yours if you don't want to." he added hastily, noting the raised eyebrow he got in response, "A friend of yours, maybe. I just need to be able to give him a phone number to text tomorrow. He's getting over a breakup and trying to get back in the game," Ragnor explained.

The blue-eyed Brit and the silver-haired Asian looked at each other, seemingly silently arguing about something. Eventually, the silver-haired one rolled his eyes and looked away, and the blue-eyed one grinned at Ragnor. "I can't give you mine, although Magnus seems delightful," he said apologetically, "but I've got a number that'll do the trick for you." He grabbed a napkin from the bar, took a pen out of his coat pocket, and pulled up something on his phone, presumably the number he scribbled on the napkin. He folded it over and handed it to Ragnor. "If he texts that, he should have some fun," he promised with a secretive smile.

"All right," Ragnor glanced unsurely at the seemingly more sensible Asian, who just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Thank you." His phone buzzed, indicating the Uber was waiting outside. Slipping the napkin in his pocket, he grabbed Magnus and wrapped an arm around him to keep him upright.

"Good luck," one of the strangers called as Ragnor left. He raised his hand in acknowledgement before stumbling out of the bar and into the Uber with a sigh of relief.

* * *

 **A/N: Phew! Chapter One, done! I know nothing about bars or New York City or bars in New York City, so excuse any glaring errors. I'm not sure where I'll go with the next chapter- I'm assuming I'll continue on with Magnus' POV for a bit before introducing the other half of the ship.**

 **If you know me from The Alphabet of Solangelo, you already know this, but I'm not amazing with updates. The first three chapters of this fic will be up relatively consistently- after that, it's anybody's guess as to when I'll feel like writing. This is an actual chaptered fic instead of just a series of one-shots like the Alphabet of Solangelo, so hopefully that'll prompt me to write more consistently since I'll forget the plot if I don't write. I don't like abandoning fics, so I promise that is the very last possibility of what'll happen to this story!**

 **Reviews definitely motivate me to write. I can't describe the feeling of getting feedback and attention on your work- you know it if you're a writer. General comments and (constructive) criticism are more than welcome, as are any questions or invitations to chat if that's what you like. On to Chapter 2!**

 **~ Bobbi**


	2. Sent

**A/N: As predicted, we're continuing on with Magnus's POV here! In case it wasn't clear, this is a complete AU. All characters are normal human beings- no warlock marks, just hair dye and colored contacts, if that.**

 **Disclaimer: *long, drawn out sigh***

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Sent**

He wouldn't have gotten out of bed before noon if it wasn't for the hairball on his chest. Chairman Meow didn't take kindly to the lack of attention from his owners since they'd gone out the previous night, and Ragnor had never been great with giving the cat the appropriate amount of breakfast and good-morning cuddles, so naturally the feline exacted his vengeance by making his displeasure known right on Magnus's chest.

Even then, he might not have gotten up, but eventually the smell became too much to bear. He had initially woken up around seven to Ragnor placing a wet cloth on his forehead and mentioning something about calling in sick. The headache quickly encouraged him to close his eyes again, and he'd been dozing since then until the Chairman leapt onto the bed and decided enough was enough.

Sighing, Magnus took the now slightly damp cloth from his forehead and used it to carefully pick up the hairball. With the other hand, he nudged the Chairman off his chest and slowly pushed himself to sit up straight, eyes screwed nearly shut. God, he hated hangovers. It was a testament to both his youth and his drinking capacity that he didn't have to deal with them that often, but when they hit, Magnus knew he'd overdone it. He half-wondered what had happened last night, wincing as he recalled images of a cheering crowd. Thank God for Ragnor- Magnus would have been left for dead after a night of excessive drinking at least four times by now without his roommate around.

The Chairman meowed petulantly, and Magnus cracked open one eye enough to look at him where he sat on the ground. "You're right," he grumbled, shifting his legs over the side of the bed and slowly attempting to balance. He assumed Ragnor had called in sick for him, seeing as it was- his eyes flicked to the blinking digital clock on the nightstand- 10:30 a.m, a full two hours after he was supposed to be at work. At least he had the day to recover from this hangover, and he got to delay dealing with Raphael's comments. His coworker had probably heard all about Camille dumping him for someone else by now and would undoubtedly have fresh insults ready.

Finding his balance, Magnus dropped the hairball into the trashcan and stumbled into the bathroom. He could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror, but he summoned up the courage to do so. Turning his head from side to side, he decided the damage wasn't as bad as he'd initially suspected. Yes, his initially perfectly spiked hair was now sticky with some substance, probably alcohol, and he had bitten his lip at some point, but there was nothing a nice hot shower wouldn't help fix. Magnus noted that Ragnor had dressed him in a clean T-shirt and pajama bottoms once they'd gotten home instead of leaving him in his party clothes stained by God-knows-what. Really, he ought to do Ragnor's laundry or something soon. His debts were starting to build up.

He quickly brushed his teeth and gargled some mouthwash to get the feeling of vomit out of his mouth- he was sure he had puked at least once, probably more- and debated whether he could hold his balance in the shower long enough to not fall and knock himself out. Eventually, the need to make his hair clean again won out against his fear of concussing himself and giving Ragnor an unwelcome surprise when he got home. He stepped into the shower, carefully rubbing first his unscented shampoo, then his peach-scented conditioner through his hair. Slowly, the alcohol and hair product washed out of his hair, allowing it to fall around his face. The suds that trickled down the drain were stained purple, reminding Magnus to touch up his dye job soon- he'd been wearing the purple streaks for longer than usual, but he wasn't ready to part with them just yet. Maybe adding some gold would accent them nicely and keep them fresh.

After he scrubbed the grime off the rest of his body, Magnus wrapped himself in his soft purple bathrobe and walked into the kitchen, having forgotten to grab clothes out of the closet. It didn't really matter- for once, he felt too tired to give a damn about his appearance. He was just staying home and trying to relieve the feeling of a spike being driven into his head. Robotically, he topped up the cat's food bowl in response to the persistent meows and approached the fridge in search of some milk.

Ragnor, knowing his friend would look for the milk to help relieve his headache if nothing else, had left his note on the fridge.

Sighing, Magnus sat down at the table to try and decipher Ragnor's lean scrawl. He must have been in a hurry to get out the door for class, but this kind of handwriting really made Magnus think his friend should be studying to be a doctor rather than a lawyer.

 _Magnus-_

 _There's Tylenol at the back of the second shelf of the medicine cabinet. Take two pills every three hours._

Yup. He really should be a doctor, seeing as he was probably ignoring the instructions on the Tylenol. Magnus considered convincing his friend to make a career change, but pushed that aside to finish reading.

 _There's a bowl of your noodle soup from Sunday night in the fridge that you can microwave for three minutes to make it edible for lunch. If you don't want that, there's also ramen as usual, but you're the only one who eats that crap soup and if you don't finish it today I'm throwing it out._

Okay, that was just unnecessary. Just because Ragnor didn't understand the appeal of the messy soup place down the street didn't mean that he had to threaten to throw the soup out every time Magnus didn't finish it within two days. Everyone knew soup was safe to eat for at least four days, even if it lost some flavor.

 _I gave the Chairman a cup of cat food for breakfast, don't know if that worked, he's your responsibility._

No wonder the cat had been in such a bad mood. It was just like Ragnor to give him plain cat food for breakfast, and only the "recommended amount" of one cup! Magnus gave him a sardine every single morning, which Ragnor knew since he complained about the smell, yet he'd still neglected to give Chairman the fish. That was just petty. Magnus knew that the terms of the agreement to get Chairman Meow had included the cat being entirely his responsibility, but that didn't mean Ragnor had to be purposefully neglectful- especially while Magnus was sick.

 _I'm heading to work after class and I'll be back for dinner. I'm getting our usual from the Korean place- text me if you want something else from there, but I am_ _not_ _going to a different place. I want their kimchi stew._ Magnus snorted. _I'll fill you in on last night when I get home. I don't know if I sorted out everything with your job- Raphael laughed pretty loud when I said you were sick- but he didn't say anything else._ Magnus groaned. That just meant he was in for extra torture tomorrow. _Anyway, don't do anything stupid. Don't watch too much Netflix- that won't help with your headache at all. See you in a bit._

 _-Ragnor_

Magnus crumpled up the note and threw it aside, chuckling as Chairman Meow leapt for the paper ball and began play-hunting it. He resumed his search for milk, pulling out the carton when he found it and pouring some into a mug. Deciding to make some hot cocoa, he dug out the chocolate powder that was made for hyperactive middle-schoolers rather than grown men, a bag of marshmallows, and the last can of whipped cream. Magnus then remembered that Ragnor was usually the one who made hot cocoa the 'fancy' way since Magnus could not be trusted to boil milk on the stove without an incident of some sort. He resigned himself to inferior microwaved milk in his hot cocoa as he searched for the Tylenol that promised to relieve his headache.

After choking down the pills and successfully concocting some drink that could pass for hot cocoa, Magnus settled on the coach with his mug and contemplated what he was to do with his day off. Ragnor had said not to watch too much Netflix, meaning Magnus could probably binge half a season of "The Good Place" without crossing the line, but that wouldn't keep him occupied for that long. Ragnor wouldn't be home until 6, and it was only- Magnus glanced at his cell phone- 11:12 a.m. He had nearly seven hours to kill.

His eyes roamed the loft, looking for something to do. There were books, but Magnus doubted reading would help with the headache. There was an old radio he could turn on, but Magnus was pretty sure it only got AM radio. There was . . . his eyes landed on a white lace scarf thrown over the back of the armchair. A lump formed in his throat. There was Kristen Bell and chocolate to drown his sorrows in, he decided.

He shot off a text to Ragnor telling him he'd read the note and begging him to come home soon before turning the TV on. "Ah, Kristen, heal me of my pain." he murmured, ignoring the fact that the only thing that could hear him was the cat. He took a sip of the cocoa and grimaced. Oh, well. He ought to get grown-up points for at least trying. Ragnor could make him a better cup once he got home anyway.

* * *

" _Magnus._ "

The young man in question groaned, blinking his eyes open. It took a few seconds for his brain to process what he was looking at- Ragnor's face, only upside down for some reason.

"Morning," he yawned. "When did you get here?"

"It's 5:20 in the evening. And I walked in about five minutes ago because you texted me about five times wanting me to get home sooner. Have you been drinking again?"

"Of course not." Magnus smacked his lips, taking the initiative to sit up on the couch so Ragnor would be right side up again. "I simply dozed off."

"How long have you been asleep?"

"Uh . . ." Magnus racked his brain. He remember eating lunch- the soup-stained bowl on the coffee table testified to that- and he remembered downing a second dose of Tylenol. "Three hours max."

Ragnor grunted. "That's not horrible, I suppose. Better than sleeping the day away. How's your head?"

"Surprisingly better." Magnus rubbed his temple. "I suppose overdosing on Tylenol does that much before it kills you."

"Oh, relax. You're not gonna take enough of it for it to kill you." Ragnor gathered up the empty dishes on the coffee table. "Have you taken a third dose yet?" he called as he walked back to the kitchen.

"Not yet."

"I'll get you one now before dinner," Ragnor decided, and Magnus felt his nose start working properly again to pick up the smell of the coveted kimchi stew.

Thankfully, Ragnor didn't make him get up from the couch. He came back first with a glass of water and two pills, then with Magnus's plate piled high with noodles and Chairman's food bowl, and finally his own plate of food and a bowl of the famous kimchi stew for both men to share.

"So, last night," Magnus prompted as Ragnor sat beside him on the couch, shooing the cat away.

Ragnor groaned. "You can't just let me watch Sherlock in peace?" he complained. "I'll tell you afterwards."

"Sherlock takes forever! Deal with me first. I'm very annoying," Magnus promised, smiling innocently.

"Fine," Ragnor rolled his eyes, knowing what his roommate was like. He pulled out his phone. "I took a video of the first two minutes of your performance. Then it got boring."

Magnus laughed as he watched himself gyrating on top of the bar. He was somehow missing both his jacket and his pants, but still had the boots on. Really, he had to figure out how his drunk self had pulled that one off- it was definitely not something he could manage while sober, despite his best efforts.

"What do you mean it got boring?" he questioned. "I'm hilarious."

"You kept doing exactly that, adding in some twerking, and the bartender would have called the police if he'd had an ounce of sense and hadn't been in shock." Ragnor responded, putting his phone away. "After I got you out of that first bar-"

"With my clothes." Magnus interrupted.

"With your jacket, anyway." Ragnor responded, shrugging. "The pants weren't important. You were twerking, Magnus. There were NYU kids Snapchatting that."

Magnus's jaw dropped. "Those pants are _incredibly_ important. I got them on the best Black Friday of my life. And I can't believe you robbed me of my chance to be social media famous," he finished, pouting.

Ragnor ignored the dramatics. "Anyway, after I got you out of that first bar, you had a breakdown after seeing a girl who looked maybe 30% like Camille,"

Magnus's mood instantly dropped, and his eyes wandered over to the white scarf.

"So, I got you into a second bar and you started chatting up a _fine_ blue-eyed guy, Mags," Ragnor continued, fanning himself awkwardly in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Like, wow. If you hadn't gotten to him first and been really cut up over Camille, I probably would've just taken him myself after you got a phone number off him."

"Phone number?" Magnus frowned. He had a vague recollection of briefly talking to a guy at a bar, but he couldn't remember getting a number.

"You were too plastered to handle it yourself, so I took care of it." Ragnor dug out his wallet, pulling out a folded over napkin and handing it to his roommate. "All yours- you earned it," he winked.

Magnus took the napkin hesitantly. Usually, this was what he did- he found a hot guy, went on a date or two, then Camille caught wind of it and decided she wanted to be with Magnus again. But this last breakup had been more final- she had been seriously cheating on him. Not just flirting with other guys or kissing a few at bars- she had been fooling around with the same man consistently for months. That wasn't usually what happened with Camille, and it gave Magnus the sinking feeling that she was really done with him this time. If that was the case, what was he supposed to do? He'd been with Camille off and on for over three years- that wasn't really something you just rebounded from overnight. Magnus wasn't sure he had it in him to seriously look for someone new after so long and start up a new relationship.

"Magnus?" Ragnor looked concerned, seeing as Magnus had yet to unfold the napkin.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Magnus responded finally. "What if I'm actually a terrible date?"

"I promise that's not the case," Ragnor reassured him, "but I see what you mean. You were with her for a long time."

"Yes."

"Seriously pursuing someone else is . . . kind of scary," Ragnor continued.

"Exactly. And I don't think she's coming back this time." Magnus confessed forlornly.

Ragnor smiled inwardly upon hearing that, although he knew Magnus said it every time he and Camille broke things off. "Look, why don't you just text him? It'll give you someone new to talk to, if nothing else. You don't have to start something up with him- just talk to him."

"What for?" Magnus raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? It's fun to text a stranger," Ragnor shrugged. "It's a very Magnus thing to do. It'll take your mind off Camille for a while if you get to know a new person. Don't date him if you don't want to."

"It is a me thing to do," Magnus agreed. Ragnor usually steered him in the right direction, and he was rarely pushy about it. He'd never liked Camille, but he'd stayed by Magnus's side despite all the drama she put him through and had yet to say 'I told you so' regarding their most recent split. And of course, Magnus did owe Ragnor, even if he had left his lucky Black Friday pants at some bar. "All right, why the hell not," he decided. Magnus pulled out his phone and took a deep breath, punching in the number. Then, a crucial thought struck him.

"Ragnor, what do I say?" He glanced over at his roommate with a pleading expression.

Ragnor, apparently assuming the conversation was over, had gotten ahold of the remote and was deciding on an episode of Sherlock. "Hmm?" he responded articulately, not taking his eyes off the TV.

"What. The. Hell. Do. I. Say?" Magnus emphasized each word through gritted teeth.

"I don't know," Ragnor tore his eyes off Benedict Cumberbatch. "Just open with something casual. Don't be creepy."

"No shit, Sherlock," Magnus replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Ragnor was clearly not going to be any help- he had kimchi stew and British guys to draw his attention. On cue, Chairman Meow leapt onto the couch and beckoned his owner's attention. Magnus scratched the cat under the chin. "If you could talk, you'd be more help than him," he told the feline dramatically, mourning Chairman's lack of speech not for the first time. The cat peered up at him with his bright blue eyes.

Blue eyes . . . Ragnor had mentioned the stranger being a blue-eyed cutie, as though it was the most distinctive thing about him.

Before he could change his mind, Magnus typed out _Hey Blue Eyes :)_ and hit send. A few seconds letter, his iPhone indicated that the message had sent. Exhaling, Magnus leaned back on the couch and tucked into his noodles.

* * *

 **A/N: I wasn't expecting to have two chapters of buildup before the first text message was actually sent, but sometimes the story just flows a certain way. I liked showing Magnus's backstory- he's the one initiating this after all.**

 **Unlike what I did for Magnus, I think I'm going to jump right into Alec getting the first text next chapter and then slowly reveal his backstory. He's the one whose life is being interrupted, so I think that flow makes more sense for him. And yes, I'm finally moving into Alec POV. You will be happy to hear that I have officially planned out the rest of this story so when I get inevitably distracted by real life and such, I will have the plot written out and waiting for me when I finally get back to fanfiction. Until I get distracted, I will try to update once a week. Let's see how long I last this time.**

 **Thanks for the initial support I've gotten on this story! I really want to keep going with this fic and make it a good one, so any feedback you have, generic as it may seem, is greatly appreciated!**

 **~Bobbi**


	3. Received

**A/N: Hiya! I'm back with another chapter. Fair warning: after this one is usually when I start slacking on the updates. I like this story a lot so I hope it doesn't happen again, but no promises children. Another fair warning: this chapter is pretty long compared to the previous two, so I hope you appreciate it.**

 **Notes about formatting: for the sake of differentiating the text messages during a prolonged conversation between the two, I've decided to write Magnus's text messages as** _italicized and underlined_ **while Alec's text messages are going to be** _ **italicized and bolded**_ **. That was just the easiest way I could think of to differentiate them.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm BROKE so no, I don't own TMI.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Received**

The text had arrived in the middle of con law, naturally on the one day Alec forgot to silence his phone. Turning red as his phone went off and all eyes turned to him, he'd quickly apologized, ducking to silence the notification and avoid the icy glare of Professor Simmons. Alec was pretty sure that damned text was the reason the professor had loaded an essay on the class at the end of the period. It wasn't like he was a disruptive student, but when Simmons said she had a zero tolerance policy towards cell phones, she meant zero tolerance.

Now, Alec sat outside his favorite cafe, sipping on a latte and bemoaning his bad luck as he reread the text for the sixth time. He'd been too mortified to read it in class, only noticing that it was from an unknown number and not one of his siblings actively making his life harder. He'd pulled out his phone after class to remind Jace that Max was staying with them and Jace needed to buy some actual food to feed the kid dinner, and that was when he read the mystery text. Blood rushed to his face.

 _Hey Blue Eyes :)_

It was almost worse than the dick pics.

He screenshotted it and sent it to Jace and Isabelle, asking if either of them recognized the number or had handed out his number to anyone recently. They'd developed a bad habit of giving out his number when they went out partying. Being gay, Alec didn't have as large of a dating pool as his siblings to begin with, and he had always been more focused on his dream of being a judge than his love life. As a result, he was approaching his 23rd birthday with 'only' two relationships under his belt. Jace and Isabelle thought that meant he needed help in the love department, even though he'd gotten both his previous boyfriends without their help. After the third time Alec received a dick pic courtesy of his siblings' meddling, he'd gotten their mom involved and assumed her yelling at them about the importance of privacy would finally put an end to the practice. Of course, Alec fumed as he stared at the mysterious text, he should have known better.

Jace responded to his accusations almost instantly, swearing up and down that he had been at Clary's all of last night and that he hadn't given out Alec's number once since Maryse had threatened to stop helping him pay tuition at NYU. Isabelle took a little longer, sending the very reassuring message that although she had gone out last night, she was pretty sure she hadn't given out Alec's number, even though she didn't remember a lot of what had happened after 1 a.m. Alec rolled his eyes. He would never understand how his sister went out and partied hard like that on weeknights. His phone lit up with another text from Isabelle.

 _What are you gonna text back?_

Alec almost spat out his coffee. His sister wanted him to engage with this rando?

 _ **Why would I text back?**_

 _Why not? He seems nice._

 _ **How do you know it's a he?**_

 _Idk just a guess. Sounds like a guy._

 _ **It's three words and a smiley face.**_

 _Short and to the point. Girls don't text like that._

Alec scoffed at his sister's rationale. She clearly wanted it to be a guy. He was pretty sure she had given his number out and just wasn't telling him- how else would the stranger know he had blue eyes?

 _ **Just tell me what weirdo you set me up with.**_

 _I didn't do anything!_

 _ **Then how does he know about my blue eyes?**_

 _Idk maybe he's someone from Columbia who's seen you around._

Alec paused and contemplated it. Who at Columbia Law could be interested in him?

 _Or maybe it's a wrong number. There's lots of people with blue eyes. Just text back and see. Then you'll know it wasn't me._

Alec sighed.

 _ **Fine. What do I say?**_

 _Oooooh you should say something flirty._

 _ **Or I can do it my way.**_

Alec quickly switched over to the unknown number before Izzy could tell him what a terrible idea doing it "his way" was.

 _ **Sorry, who is this?**_

He screenshotted it and sent to Izzy just to tease her, smiling slightly as she complained about the missed opportunity.

 _ **Remember to come to dinner tonight & you can yell at me there. I'm heading to work.**_

* * *

"How long are Mom and Dad in London for again?" Jace complained in the living room.

"Until next Saturday." Max piped up from the kitchen where he was busy invading Alec and Jace's snack supply. "So you have me around for twelve days!"

Jace groaned. Alec smiled to himself as he slid a lasagna and a tray of potatoes into the oven. Max was fourteen, a freshman in high school, so his parents hadn't been very keen about letting him stay home alone for nearly two weeks while they visited family and took care of business in London. At the same time, taking him with them was out of the question. Making up that much schoolwork was much harder in high school than in middle school. The solution they'd come up with was to leave Max at his brothers' apartment.

"You couldn't just stay with Max at Mom and Dad's place," Jace grumbled. "You had to bring him here, so I'm stuck babysitting him."

Alec had gotten out of staying in the Lightwood home by pointing out that the house was pretty far away from Columbia Law and his job. If Max stayed at the apartment instead, Jace went to NYU for class or work or Clary almost everyday anyway and could just take Max to school in the mornings and pick him up afterwards. Alec had conveniently not mentioned the issue of getting Max to school until after Jace had already agreed to Max moving in, hence why the fair-haired boy was so upset.

"I don't even get up at 8, and now you're telling me I've got to get Max to school by 8. This is ridiculous!" Jace pouted, kicking his feet up the couch.

"Take your shoes off if you're going to do that," Alec scolded as he walked into the living room. "Just pick up a morning shift at your job. You're about to fall behind on rent anyway. Clary told me so."

Jace muttered to himself about backstabbing girlfriends but didn't retort. Alec silently congratulated himself on befriending Clary. Initially, the redhead had seemed almost scared of him, but it took maybe a month for them to bond over a love of books after they met. It irritated Jace to no end that Alec was on such good terms with his girlfriend.

"I can get to school myself, if it bothers you that much." Max joined them in the living room, Doritos in hand. "I know how the subway works, you know. I won't tell Mom."

"No way, Max," Alec shook his head. "You don't know this neighborhood. Maybe if you stay with us again after this, but not for your first time."

Max shrugged and sat down on Jace's legs on the couch, ignoring the attempts to kick him off. Alec stifled a laugh. He'd kind of missed living with Max. He texted the kid a fair amount, and he usually visited home once or twice a month, but it had been four years since he'd moved out. Unlike Izzy, Max wasn't old enough to just pop by whenever he felt like seeing Alec. Alec hoped the next week and a half would help Max feel more included in his siblings' lives again- it had to be tough living alone with Mom and Dad as a teenager. Alec had had Izzy and Jace to confide in during his own teenage years, but adolescence had still been rough with the coming out and all. He wanted to make sure Max knew he could confide in his older siblings as well.

"What time is Izzy coming over?" Jace asked, giving up on kicking Max off the couch.

Alec shrugged, pulling out his phone. "I told her dinner needed to be ready by 6:30 and it's 5:50 now. She wanted to help out, so she'll probably show up soon." Izzy hadn't texted him since their conversation about the stranger four hours earlier, and he noted that the stranger had yet to respond to the message he'd sent. Maybe it was just a wrong number text after all.

"What's for dinner?" Max asked, stuffing Doritos into his mouth. Normally, Alec would have yelled at him for eating junk so soon before dinner, but he had no doubt the boy would be hungry again half an hour later. Max still had six inches to grow until he crossed the six foot mark like Alec and his father. He had already started shooting up, having grown three inches since January. As a result, he ate more than Jace these days.

"I'm making lasagna and roast potatoes, which you would have noticed if you weren't busy depleting our food supply," Alec responded, tilting his head at the oven cooking away. "I also made and froze some breadsticks yesterday for Isabelle to heat up once she gets here so she can feel like she's helping."

"Can I help Isabelle help?" Max inquired.

"Please," Alec smiled. "I'm not sure it's possible to screw up using a toaster oven that badly, but I haven't forgotten the time she tried to make me baked potatoes. I don't think the microwave ever fully recovered from that." Alec wasn't sure if his mom had been trying to make a statement about gender roles by neglecting Isabelle's cooking skills while teaching Alec and Jace extensively, or if his sister was just completely unteachable in the culinary arts. Either way, it was incredible to him that she was a junior in college and still incapable of doing much more than making some ramen. He secretly suspected the reason Izzy hadn't moved out of the NYU dorms like Jace had was that she depended too much on the university cafeteria for her meals.

On cue, the female Lightwood banged on the door. "Hey! Why is this locked?"

"Because we live in New York City and locking the door is common sense," Alec yelled back.

"You live on the Upper East Side and you were expecting me!" Isabelle pointed out.

"What did you do with your key?" Jace hollered over from the couch. "You have it for a reason!"

She fell silent, and there was some jingling before the door swung open to reveal a pouting young woman. She had her long black hair in a loose braid with a few face-framing strands falling out, and she was wearing a burgundy long-sleeved dress with knee high brown boots. Alec wondered how she managed to look so normal and hide the fact that she'd been out late last night.

"Who buzzed you up if you forgot about your key?" Jace asked as she stomped in.

"The bodybuilder that lives under you was getting home when I got here, and he has a little crush on me," Izzy explained, throwing her purse onto the kitchen table. "I figured I'd come up here and catch you off guard, but you had your stupid door locked! Hey, Max," she finished, switching from frustrated to happy once she noticed her younger brother.

Max waved, still occupied with shovelling Doritos into his mouth.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry I ruined your dramatic entrance. Breadsticks are in the fridge, go ahead and start heating them up."

"Wait for me, Izzy!" Max tossed the nearly-empty bag of Doritos onto Jace and ran into the kitchen.

Alec followed the two, trusting Max only slightly more than he trusted Izzy to not burn down his kitchen. "The oven mitts are in the drawer next to the oven, please use them," he instructed loudly.

"Well, if everyone's going to the kitchen," Jace grumbled, getting up and carrying the Doritos into the kitchen with him.

Alec wandered over to the oven, checking on the main course. Satisfied with the progress, he turned around and smiled at the scene. Isabelle and Max were quarrelling over the best way to spread the breadsticks out while Jace was sitting at the kitchen island and polishing off the bag of Doritos. It wasn't often the four siblings were alone together. Alec had really missed it.

"So, Alec," Isabelle started, having successfully gotten the breadsticks in the toaster oven, "how's your secret admirer?"

Never mind. Alec scowled as Jace and Max turned to stare at him.

"What secret admirer? That guy who had a thing for your eyes? All Izzy's doing, by the way," Jace added.

"Liar! I didn't hand his number out to anybody," Izzy snapped back.

"I don't know that that's a secret admirer," Max joined the discussion.

"How do you know about- never mind," Alec figured his sister would have kept Max in the loop. "As long as no one sent the screenshots to Mom and Dad, it's fine."

"We're not stupid, Alec." Izzy rolled her eyes.

"Clearly, you are," Jace snorted. "You're still handing out his number after Mom came down on us about it a couple weeks ago."

"I keep telling you, I didn't do anything! I was at an NYU bar last night. Even drunk me wouldn't think Alec would want a guy from there. He's a sophisticated Ivy man now," Izzy teased.

Alec, like Jace and Izzy, had attended NYU for his undergrad years on his parents' insistence. He'd been accepted at Princeton and Duke for law school, but he had decided to stay in the city and go to Columbia. As a result, Izzy and Jace enjoyed teasing him about how posh he was, even though both of them were smart enough to go somewhere equally prestigious for grad school if they put in the work.

"There was this one hilarious guy, though- if he got Alec's number somehow or just talked to him, that would be such an amazing conversation," Isabelle began cracking up. "Did you guys see him on my Snapchat story?"

Jace groaned. "The guy in the silver tank top and black booty shorts twerking on the bar? God, Izzy, I had to scrub my brain with bleach to get that image out of my head so I could go to sleep last night."

"Alec would probably take one look at him and run screaming in the other direction," Max laughed.

"Hey, you are supposed to be on my side!" Alec retorted, although he knew Max was probably right. Any party animal was not Alec's type. He had two siblings who served as evidence for that. Still, he felt intrigued by the description. "Can I see him, Izzy?"

"Ugh, when are you going to get a Snapchat?" Isabelle rolled her eyes at her backwards brother but passed her phone over. "He was pretty yummy up close," she continued as Alec examined the dancing man. He was tall- maybe even taller than Alec- with smooth, healthy tan skin and spiked black hair. "He had this cute orange jacket on and really pretty eyes, probably contacts. I should've asked where he got them from. Hell, I should have asked for his name or number. His friend was something cute too. Bit of a party-pooper though."

"Orange jacket? Keep him away from Alec," Jace joked, poking fun at Alec's color-neutral wardrobe. "Now, the party-pooper, what's his situation?"

"Shut up," Alec told him, passing back his sister's phone. "I highly doubt I'll like someone who associates with that twerking guy, anyway."

"You judge too harshly," Izzy complained. "Jace has done worse things while drunk."

"I didn't need to know that, but it honestly proves my point," Alec responded dryly, ignoring Jace flipping him off. "Besides, I like meeting guys outside of the party scene. I know that's a foreign concept to you. Now, check on the breadsticks."

Isabelle stuck her tongue out but obeyed, turning back towards to the toaster oven. "Has he said anything, though? The secret admirer?" She returned to her original question.

Alec pursed his lips. "No. Probably realized it was a wrong number."

"It's only been a few hours," Max pointed out logically.

"Exactly! He's probably been crafting the perfect response," Jace laughed.

"We don't even know it's a he," Alec protested.

"It's definitely a he," all three of his siblings chorused together.

"Do you three have a group chat where you plan out how exactly you're going to annoy me?" Alec complained. One look at their faces told him he didn't want to know the answer. "Look, we'll deal with it if he texts back. Max, salvage the breadsticks. Jace, put the Doritos away and set the table."

"Okay, Mom," Jace muttered, getting up and dodging the fork Alec threw at his head.

Alec sighed loudly as he turned to get the lasagna and potatoes out of the oven. He hoped his siblings would miss him when he moved far, far away from New York and blocked all of their numbers.

* * *

Maybe he wouldn't move that far away, Alec mused. They weren't too bad when they weren't ganging up on him.

Jace was on dishwasher duty, the one thing he would do without complaining- probably because he still remembered the time he'd broken the dishwasher and been forced to wash everything by hand for a week. Izzy and Max were curled up on the couch, watching some Netflix show and discussing a girl Max had a crush on. Good. The younger boy was confiding. As for Alec, he had finished setting up the futon bed in his room for Max to sleep on and was now sweeping the kitchen. He and Jace had argued about whose room Max had to sleep in, and Jace ended up winning because Clary had a habit of staying over. Alec reminded him there was to be no funny business while Max was staying in the apartment, but he really didn't mind having Max in his room. It would give them a chance to talk, and Alec was better at algebra than Jace anyway.

A phone buzzed. "Alec, you've got some kind of notification!" Izzy hollered, not taking her eyes off the screen to look at Alec's phone sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Very helpful, Izzy," he replied.

"What do you want from me?" She leaned forward, tapping the screen to life. "It's a text from- oooh, it's your secret admirer!"

"What?" Alec dropped the broom.

"You seem eager," Jace commented, leaving the half-full sink to dart into the living room. "Hey Izzy, what's it say?"

"Hang on, let me remember his password." Isabelle picked up the phone, brow furrowed as she typed.

"Why do you know my password?" Alec spluttered.

Isabelle ignored him as Max and Jace took up a position on each side of her, leaning over to read the text. They all giggled.

"Hey, what's it say?" Alec finally regained some function in his legs, marching into the living room. "Give me my phone back!"

"Have at it," Izzy smirked, tossing his phone at him. Alec caught it deftly, glaring at her before reading the text.

 _Someone who drowned in your lovely eyes and wants to get to know you better ;)_

God, the man was cheesy.

"He sounds smitten, Alec," Jace called over. "Who have you ensnared?"

"No one," Alec scowled. "This is some kind of joke." His fingers were already flying over the keyboard as he walked into his bedroom, away from his nosy siblings.

 _ **That's nice and all, but I think you have the wrong number.**_

Hoping that would be the end of it, Alec sat on his bed and pulled out his laptop to start his eighteen page long con law essay. The buzz of his phone proved him wrong. Sighing, he picked it up and read the response.

 _I'm not looking for anyone in particular, so I doubt that's the case._

What, so this guy texted random people and flirted with them for fun?

 _ **That's weird. And how'd you know I have blue eyes?**_

 _It's entertaining. And lucky guess. There's not that many eye colors in the world._

 _ **It's also something creeps do.**_

 _I have been described as creepy before. Not in a dangerous way. And you're free to put the phone down and ignore me._

Alec knew he was free to do so, but he wasn't entirely convinced this wasn't a setup by one of his siblings.

 _ **Where'd you get this number from?**_

 _A bar. Around NYU campus._

Alec knew it.

 _ **Who gave it to you? A pretty girl with black hair?**_

 _No, I'm pretty sure I got it from a guy._

 _ **Blond?**_

 _No, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't remember much else about him, sorry._

Alec half wondered if he'd sleepwalked into a bar and handed out his own number. Who

else had dark hair, blue eyes, and Alec's cell phone number? He didn't give his phone number out to that many people. Social media was usually enough to collaborate on group projects.

 _ **Well, it doesn't matter. I'm not interested in a date or whatever you got this number for.**_

 _I don't want a date._

 _ **You just flirted with me.**_

 _I was testing the waters. I just want to talk to you._

 _ **Do you even know who I am?**_

 _No tbh. You might be a serial killer for all I know. I'm running just as much of a risk here._

Alec snorted. This guy had a current of honesty running under everything he said. Alec was inclined to take him seriously despite his initial disbelief. He still didn't understand something though.

 _ **Why do you want to talk to me?**_

 _Honestly?_

 _ **Yes.**_

 _I'm going through a mess of a breakup and one of my friends thought it would be therapeutic for me to make a new friend._

It was certainly a good story, ridiculous enough to leave the authenticity of it up in the air.

 _ **Alright then. It doesn't hurt too much to talk. But since this is your idea, you don't get to press me for any personal info, and I want you to answer some questions honestly first.**_

 _Sounds good._

Alec chewed his lip. He wasn't sure what about this person he wanted to know exactly.

 _ **Gender?**_

 _Male_

Well, his siblings had been right.

 _ **Age range?**_

 _Twenties_

 _ **Employed?**_

 _Yes_

 _ **Past crimes?**_

 _Unless you count underage drinking and downloading music, none._

Alec smiled slightly.

 _ **Okay, that should do for now. If you don't mind, I've got a paper to write, so ttyl?**_

 _Good night._

Alec put his phone down and returned to his paper, only to see Isabelle smirking in the doorway.

"I was going to tell you that I'm taking off and I'll see you later, but I didn't want to interrupt," she said smugly. "Drive him away?"

"For now," Alec replied evenly, making a mental note to activate the fingerprint lock on his phone. "Good night, Izzy. Get home safe."

"Good night." She blew him a kiss and walked away. Alec heard the distant sound of her telling Jace and Max good night as well, and the door closing behind her.

He leaned back and stared at the document he had open, with only his name, the date, and the title typed out. Eighteen pages on the separation of powers. Well, he had three weeks to get it done. Alec closed the laptop and plugged it in to charge on his desk, grabbing _The Count of Monte Cristo_ as a replacement.

As he tried to lose himself in Alexandre Dumas's words, he found his mind wandering back to the stranger who'd texted him. It was all so random, but it hadn't been set up by either of his siblings. Someone with dark hair and blue eyes like Alec, giving out Alec's phone number….maybe it really was fate, he mused. The stranger was in his twenties, putting him in a reasonable age range for Alec, and he seemed decent. Still, it seemed too good to be true. And the stranger was just coming out of a serious relationship, if he was to be believed. It was best to not be the rebound.

Alec floated between the novel in his hands and the strange man in his thoughts quite a few times before Max wandered in around midnight, having finished a few marathon games of chess against Jace. Alec took it as a cue to settle in for bed- he remembered the boy couldn't sleep well with the lights on, and he had to get up for school barely six hours later. Jace popped in to say good night and remind Max to be ready to go by 7:15, pretending not to hear Alec's comment that Jace probably wouldn't wake up until 7 himself. Max reassured him he would be up.

Alec felt a warm sense of contentment fill him as he watched the younger boy set an alarm on his phone and place his glasses on the floor by the futon. He hadn't slept in the same room as Max since before he'd moved out, back when the younger boy would occasionally show up at his bedroom door complaining about a nightmare.

"Good night, Alec," Max curled up in his blanket. He was just a long-limbed kid, barely a proper teenager.

"Good night, Max," Alec turned out the lamp by his bed and settled on his back. The stranger would probably text him tomorrow….or maybe he should text first. He'd figure it out later, he decided as he closed his eyes.

* * *

 **A/N: Holy moly that went on for awhile! I underestimated how much I like writing Lightwood sibling interactions. I didn't spend a ton of time describing their individual appearances because I'm assuming y'all remember what they look like from the books. Jace is still an adopted sibling in this AU, I just couldn't find a natural place to state it and figured it would be obvious. Also: you would not** _ **believe**_ **how much time I spent looking at the map of NYC to figure out the geography of this story. At least I learned something about the city!**

 **Anyway, next chapter will jump back to Magnus's perspective on this conversation, and add some new stuff. Let me know what you guys think by hitting that review button!**

 **~ Bobbi**


	4. Peep-Toe Shoes

**A/N: What's up? How is everyone? Ready for some more slow-burn Malec, cuz that's what I'm throwing your way! You read the summary, you knew what you were getting into. Let's hope the weekly updates continue!**

 **Disclaimer: I think it's obvious I am not a professional writer.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Peep-Toe Shoes**

 _ **Sorry, who is this?**_

Magnus frowned. He usually left more of an impression than that, considering his usual wardrobe choice. Maybe this fellow handed out his number to a lot of people at bars. Or maybe Magnus had typed it in wrong . . . he'd check when he got home, he decided.

"Are you paid to check Instagram, Bane?" Raphael drawled as he stopped by Magnus's cubicle.

Magnus rolled his eyes and set his phone face-down on his desk. "I'm pretty sure I'm paid more for putting up with you than doing my actual job," he shot back easily, used to Raphael's remarks after nearly a year working with the man.

"Probably. Otherwise, there's not much of an explanation for you making more than minimum wage after the last spread you turned in." Raphael pulled out the spread on peep-toe shoes that Magnus had spent nearly six weeks slaving over, and proceeded to drop it straight into Magnus's recycle bin. "Turn in a decent revision by tomorrow, or Jonathan's spread will go in the issue instead."

"Got it," Magnus rolled his eyes.

"Magnus, she's been looking to shift someone over to Sales. Don't give her a reason to pick you. I'd be bored without you to make fun of." That was the closest to open affection Raphael was capable of giving, and Magnus knew it.

"Okay. Thanks, Santiago," he said sincerely. Raphael waved and stole a pen out of Magnus's supply as he walked away.

Magnus waited until Raphael was out of earshot, then groaned loudly and dropped his head in his hands. Of course that old bitch hated the first spread he'd ever worked on by himself, and of _course_ this was the spread his career depended on. Working for a fashion magazine that put out only four issues a year meant that getting to be on the design team was cutthroat. Magnus had been proud of the fact that he'd earned a position in Design before the age of 25, so there was no way in hell he was letting himself get booted back to Sales after only nine months. He'd wasted two years in Sales already.

Feeling an eye twitch coming on at the prospect of completely redoing the spread by 5:30 p.m. the next day, Magnus pulled up the project on his computer. On the bright side, he mused, Raphael had yet to do more than briefly mention Camille, and this spread would certainly serve as a sufficient distraction from his relationship woes.

* * *

"You're back late," Ragnor remarked as Magnus dragged himself into the apartment around 7:30 in the evening.

"I texted you, didn't I?" he complained. "Do you ever check your phone?"

"I did, but all you said was that you would be a bit late. I didn't think that meant a full ninety minutes," Ragnor pointed out. "Have you had dinner?"

"Nope," Magnus bent down to greet the cat begging for attention. "I've been working on the spread all day. I barely ate a bagel for a lunch."

"I thought you turned in that spread last Thursday," Ragnor frowned.

"Yzma ended up hating it, so I have to turn in a revision by the end of the day tomorrow, or she'll go with Jonathan's design and boot me back to Sales," Magnus explained.

"Bullshit," Ragnor snorted. "It's your first spread, and you're the youngest on the team."

"All the more reason to hold me to a higher standard, Ragnor."

"If you say so. I finished the leftover Korean, so there's the usual quick dinner options. Except we're out of mac and cheese," Ragnor added as an afterthought.

"Good. You're the only one here who still eats that juvenile crap. Even the Chairman rejects it." The Chairman meowed loudly on cue.

"Says the one who drinks hot cocoa twice a week during the winter," Ragnor muttered under his breath.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Magnus responded as he walked into the kitchen. After a full five hours working on nothing but the spread, he was too exhausted to do anything but make a cup of ramen.

"Make a new friend today?" Ragnor called.

Make a cup of ramen and send a text, Magnus decided.

"Not exactly," Magnus responded. "He doesn't remember me from last night."

Ragnor blinked. "Of course he doesn't remember you," he said slowly, "he's never met you."

"What?" Magnus stared at his roommate. "I thought this number came off the blue-eyed guy in the bar."

"It did, but it's not his number," Ragnor clarified. "It's a friend's. I think."

"What?"

"Yeah, he said that guy would be more suited for you or something like that. You were fine with it that time," Ragnor continued.

Magnus groaned. He couldn't remember that happening at all, and it made the situation so much more awkward. "I guess that's okay, but you didn't make that clear yesterday. Look what I sent him." He pulled up the conversation on his phone and showed it to Ragnor.

Ragnor whistled. "It's not as bad as it could have been," he said, "but why didn't you ask me for help?"

"I did, dumbass," Magnus resisted the urge to smack Ragnor. "You were too busy with Sherlock Holmes. What do I do now?"

Ragnor shrugged. "Lean into it?"

"What?"

"Look, you've already opened with flirting," Ragnor elaborated. "Just….flirt some more, and explain you want to get to know him better."

Magnus sighed. "Lean into it, huh?" Alright, what was the harm? It was a stranger who would likely never recognize him even if he never texted back. Before he could rethink it, he typed out a message and hit send.

 _Someone who drowned in your lovely eyes and wants to get to know you better ;)_

"What'd you reply with?"

"I'd rather not share that, thanks," Magnus replied. "I might have overdone it a little."

"Classic Magnus. Have fun, I've got a test to study for." Ragnor retreated into his bedroom. Columbia Law kept him busy.

Magnus pulled out a cup of spicy chicken ramen and began boiling some water when his phone went off, alerting him to a response. He picked it up, feeling unusually nervous.

 _ **That's nice and all, but I think you have the wrong number.**_

Straightforward. Taking a moment to ensure the water didn't boil over, he shot back a response.

 _I'm not looking for anyone in particular, so I doubt that's the case._

Hey, it wasn't a lie. Magnus briefly wondered if he should double check the number on the napkin, but he doubted it would make much of a difference at this point. Sure, the conversation was only five messages long, but he felt pretty invested.

 _ **That's weird. And how'd you know I have blue eyes?**_

So he did have blue eyes. That was a plus, Magnus supposed. Blue eyes were his favorite.

 _It's entertaining. And lucky guess. There's not that many eye colors in the world._

 _ **It's also something creeps do.**_

Cautious, and pretty blunt. At least he had more common sense than Magnus, although as Ragnor frequently pointed out, that wasn't a particularly high standard.

 _I have been described as creepy before. Not in a dangerous way. And you're free to put the phone down and ignore me._

Magnus did have to put his phone down then, to pour the hot water into the cup of ramen and tend to the half-screaming cat. Honestly, had Ragnor spent the last two years completely oblivious of Chairman's feeding schedule? Magnus grabbed a can of tuna and scooped it out into the cat's bowl, rolling his eyes as the Chairman leapt at his food without so much as a thank you. Typical cat behavior.

Surprisingly, there was a text waiting for him when he picked up his phone again. He'd honestly expected the person on the other end to take him up on his offer and ignore him, considering the caution he'd displayed.

 _ **Where'd you get this number from?**_

A reasonable question. Magnus was starting to get almost a big brother vibe. Unable to pinpoint the specific location of the bar in his memory, he answered as honestly as he could. He would have to ask Ragnor later.

 _A bar. Around NYU campus._

 _ **Who gave it to you? A pretty girl with black hair?**_

So it was a common practice for other people to hand out this guy's number at bars? Magnus smiled slightly. He was probably the loner type then. Not usually what Magnus would go for, but he would certainly make an interesting conversation partner. Magnus had a sudden vision of Ragnor and this blue-eyed big brother getting along splendidly, and he groaned inwardly.

 _No, I'm pretty sure I got it from a guy._

 _ **Blond?**_

 _No, dark hair and blue eyes. I don't remember much else about him, sorry._

He would really have to ask Ragnor about it the next morning. He tucked his phone in his pocket, grabbing his ramen in one hand and his briefcase in the other before heading to his bedroom. He would allow himself exactly one episode of The Good Place, he decided, and then it was back to work on the spread. Of course, his phone went off again, throwing a wrench in his plans. He set his dinner on the nightstand and tossed his briefcase on the bed, checking his phone.

 _ **Well, it doesn't matter. I'm not interested in a date or whatever you got this number for.**_

Magnus raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was definitely not the first time this poor soul had been subject to strangers flirting with him over text, probably thanks to that black-haired girl and blond boy. Magnus felt a little bad all of a sudden.

 _I don't want a date._

 _ **You just flirted with me.**_

That was true, but it didn't mean he wanted a date. The concept of casual flirting was foreign to this one- Magnus suddenly wondered how old he was. Probably not below college-aged if his friends frequently handed out his number at bars. Magnus decided that was safe enough.

 _I was testing the waters. I just want to talk to you._

 _ **Do you even know who I am?**_

No, he didn't, and that was half the fun. Magnus settled himself on the bed, twisting up a forkful of ramen.

 _No tbh. You might be a serial killer for all I know. I'm running just as much of a risk here._

Savoring the spicy noodles, Magnus waited for a response. He hoped matching the other guy's caution and distrust, even sarcastically, would win him some more conversation. It worked.

 _ **Why do you want to talk to me?**_

Of course he went straight for the hard questions.

 _Honestly?_

 _ **Yes.**_

Magnus pushed another forkful into his mouth and chewed before typing out as honest an answer as possible.

 _I'm going through a mess of a breakup and one of my friends thought it would be therapeutic for me to make a new friend._

If that didn't scare the guy off, he would probably stick around. Magnus dug out his laptop and pulled up Netflix, preparing to be blown off as emotionally unstable. He nearly jumped when a new text popped up.

 _ **Alright then. It doesn't hurt too much to talk. But since this is your idea, you don't get to press me for any personal info, and I want you to answer some questions honestly first.**_

Magnus smirked. If this guy wasn't an older brother, he definitely held a position of authority and responsibility somewhere in his life. Magnus could live with answering some basic questions.

 _Sounds good._

 _ **Gender?**_

 _Male_

 _ **Age range?**_

Typical 'Are you a predator?' questions. Magnus kind of wanted the same information about his new friend, but he knew better than to ask.

 _Twenties_

 _ **Employed?**_

 _Yes_

 _ **Past crimes?**_

Magnus snorted. He highly doubted an actual criminal would answer that honestly, text message promise or no.

 _Unless you count underage drinking and downloading music, none._

 _ **Okay, that should do for now. If you don't mind, I've got a paper to write, so ttyl?**_

A paper to write? A student of some kind, then. Magnus was reminded of Ragnor studying for his test in the next room.

 _Good night._

Magnus set his phone back on his nightstand, hitting play on The Good Place. Hopefully Kristen Bell could hit him with some design inspiration.

* * *

"Magnus," Ragnor knocked on the door. "Are you calling in sick again? I thought you had that spread to turn in,"

"Hmm?" Magnus blearily opened his eyes, hissing through his teeth as he lifted his head and felt a crick in his neck. "No, I'm going to work."

"Well, it's seven already, so you should probably get up," Ragnor had an annoying habit of going on morning runs and getting back home around seven. However, it had saved Magnus from being late on more than one occasion. "Did you fall asleep working?"

"Guess so," Magnus rubbed the back of his head. His laptop was dead in his lap, and he hoped his work had autosaved. He picked up his phone and cursed as he noticed it was dead too. He'd forgotten to set an alarm and plug it in.

"Well, get going before I get in the shower," Ragnor walked away, and Magnus closed his laptop and forced himself out of bed. He usually got up at six to allow himself enough time to get ready before Ragnor got back from his run, but it was a tight schedule today. Looked like he was dressing simple.

Forty-five minutes later, Magnus stared at his resurrected phone while munching on Cheerios, accompanied by his cat enjoying his own breakfast. Magnus knew it was crazy to hope for a text this early in the morning, but it would have been nice. His hair hung down past his chin, still streaked through with faded purple. He was wearing a simple purple button-down tucked into deep blue skinny jeans held up by a simple black belt, and his favorite black combat boots completed the look. Yzma, as he called the boss, had never liked his loud style even though she occasionally enjoyed his design ideas. He wanted to make as good of an impression as possible when he turned in his revision. That way, even if she hated his work, she might not hate him.

"You're tame today," Ragnor noted as he walked into the kitchen, still towelling his hair dry.

"If this spread can't save my job, my clothes might." Magnus explained, scrolling through the text conversation with the blue-eyed boy for the fourth time. "Hey, who'd you get this number from?" he asked, voicing his question from the previous night.

"I described him to you. Black hair, blue eyes, kind of pale. Sexy British accent," he rattled off as he went for the coffee pot.

Magnus raised his eyebrows. "You didn't mention that last one earlier," he remarked.

"I didn't? That's a crucial omission on my part. It was a great accent, Mags. I'm surprised you don't remember it," he winked.

"I'm not as obsessed with British guys as you are." Magnus rolled his eyes. "Always found them kind of stuffy. Anything else?"

Ragnor shook his head, sipping the cup of coffee he'd poured. "Not about him," he replied. "He had a friend with him. Asian-looking, also British. Really nice silver hair. I should've asked where he got it done," he lamented, running his hand through his own pale hair. Ragnor's hair wasn't chin-length like Magnus's, but it was still decently shaggy.

"Okay, thanks." Magnus downed the rest of his Cheerios and put the bowl in the sink.

"Your new friend been asking?" Ragnor wiggled his eyebrows.

"Yeah, of course he has." Magnus chuckled. "Wouldn't you ask how someone like me ended up with your number?"

"I ask myself how you ended up in my life almost every damn day, Magnus," Ragnor rolled his eyes.

"Easy. Freshman year of college, six years ago-"

"How's it going with the new guy?" Ragnor interrupted.

Magnus shrugged. "Okay. He hasn't blocked me or anything."

"Always a good sign."

Magnus ignored the sarcasm. "It's been a day, Ragnor. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens." He grabbed his briefcase. "See you tonight."

"Good luck with Yzma." Ragnor called as Magnus rushed out the door.

* * *

Magnus gave in to temptation and sent a text on the subway. It wasn't excessive if he was answering a question from the previous night, right?

 _My friend says the guy who gave me your number had a British accent and had a silver-haired Asian friend with him._

Satisfied, Magnus tucked his phone away and mentally ran through his list of tasks for the day. The spread was first and foremost, and he also owed that girl Jasmine a piece on colored high heels, he was pretty sure. Magnus had no idea when he'd become the department expert on women's footwear, but it wasn't the worst category to be in charge of. He also had to do a grocery run, and remind Ragnor that he was doing the grocery run. Thankfully, the grocery list was on his phone- there was no way his memory was good enough to contain all that info.

A red autumn coat getting on the subway caught his eye.

He also had to collect and burn everything Camille had left in his loft, he reminded himself. The white scarf had disappeared overnight- undoubtedly Ragnor's doing- but Magnus knew there was more stuff hiding.

The subway finally released him at his stop. Magnus was swept out by the crowd, fighting to find his footing. The office building that held Seasons Magazine was just off Times Square, something that was both a blessing and a curse at times. Today, it was feeling like more of a curse.

Magnus flashed his ID at the building entrance and made his way to the elevators, groaning as he noticed the Out of Order sign. Three of the six elevators were undergoing maintenance, making the line for each elevator significantly longer. He checked his watch, noting he had only ten minutes to be at his cubicle before Raphael came down on him for being late. It would have to be the stairs.

Raphael greeted him on the fourth floor with a raised eyebrow and a "forget to fall in a rainbow this morning?" Magnus responded with a middle finger and "not late" as he made his way to his desk, collapsing with a sigh. He briefly considered just taking a power nap before starting his work for the day, but his common sense voice that sounded suspiciously like Ragnor bashed that idea over the head quickly. Magnus had to tackle the spread and the article by 5:30 p.m. today. He hadn't flattered and battled his way into Design for nothing.

He pulled up the spread on the computer, thinking that he would rather stab his eyes out with a stiletto rather than ever look at a pair of peep-toe shoes again once this project was done.

* * *

Magnus was pulled out of his work daze by someone whacking him in the head with….a sandwich, of all things. He scowled and looked up, not at all surprised to see Raphael.

"What?" he growled. "I'm working, aren't I?"

"You haven't taken your eyes off your computer in four hours," Raphael replied. "I know you already wear contacts, but I don't think they make those green-gold ones in the thicker sizes. Take a break and eat something substantial for lunch." He dropped the paper-wrapped cafeteria sandwich he'd whacked Magnus with on the desk. "It's turkey and Swiss cheese."

Magnus muttered his thanks as Raphael walked away. He never would fully understand the man, he thought to himself as he unwrapped the sandwich. He wasn't entirely sure what Raphael's job was exactly- he knew he was in Design as well. He even had his own office, but he was rarely in it unless he had a meeting. Every time Magnus saw Raphael, he was walking around and snapping at unsatisfactory workers, especially Magnus. He figured Raphael had to have some skill with fashion to have his own office at Seasons, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He was on good terms with Yzma, but not good enough to get a job he didn't deserve.

And of course, Raphael had a strangely neutral relationship with Camille, somehow knowing too much about her. It had been very annoying when Magnus and Camille were dating. Magnus would walk into the office and be greeted by a comment about a recent date with Camille. He had no idea where Raphael got his information from, seeing as Camille had never mentioned him with anything more than a certain coolness. Surprisingly, Raphael had yet to start ribbing on him about the breakup.

Shaking thoughts of his supervisor and his ex out of his head, Magnus gave his spread a once-over as he bit into the sandwich. It was one in the afternoon, and Magnus felt pretty good about his progress. He figured he could take thirty minutes to relax, then polish the spread and have it turned in by three. Now that Raphael had pulled him out of his robotic work mode, Magnus felt much more aware of the fact that half of his muscles had fallen asleep after four hours at the computer. He desperately needed to stretch.

The roof would do nicely for a break. It was usually empty enough for him to have some peace on the days he didn't feel like socializing. Magnus swept the wrapping and crumbs into the trash can, locked his computer, and grabbed his phone. He made an obscene gesture at Raphael as he passed by his office on the way to the elevators, not looking up from his phone to see the response. Checking his messages, he smiled slightly when he noticed a text waiting from his new friend.

 _ **Thanks, that actually helped.**_

Magnus barely remembered to hit the button in the elevator before he began typing his response.

 _You're welcome. How'd your paper go?_

A response popped up by the time Magnus got to the roof. Maybe he was on a lunch break too.

 _ **I typed my name and the title, does that count as progress?**_

 _Sure. I won't tell._

Magnus walked out onto the roof, enjoying the feeling of the September sun on his skin. He loved the anticipation of autumn just as much as the season itself- it wasn't quite fall yet, but the chill of it was in the air.

 _ **What are you up to?**_

 _Lunch break at work._

 _ **Same. Kind of.**_

 _Where do you work at?_

 _ **That's personal.**_

 _Just a general idea, then. I work in fashion._

 _ **I do stuff with books.**_

The response came after a few minutes, but it was enough to satisfy Magnus's curiosity. He was building a picture of this guy in his head, and the more information he collected, the clearer it became. He continued prying for information, offering up his own tidbits as payment. Soon, Magnus knew that his favorite color was blue (Magnus agreed), he was an older sibling (Magnus knew it), he loved coffee but hated Starbucks (snob), and that he had absolutely no knowledge of fashion even though his younger sister loved it. Magnus would have gladly kept talking, but a text from Raphael interrupted.

 _The boss wants to talk to you._

A glance at the time on his phone revealed it was 2:15. Magnus cursed. He could still get the spread done in time, but he had let himself get too caught up in conversation. He quickly told Raphael he was coming, before jumping back over to the other conversation.

 _Hey, I have to get back to work._

 _ **I should too tbh.**_

 _Before I go, what can I call you?_

 _ **What?**_

Magnus rolled his eyes as he hopped in the elevator. Was it such a hard concept to understand?

 _You know, a nickname or something._

 _ **Uh idk.**_

 _Fine. I'll just call you Blue._

 _ **Real creative. By that logic, I'll call you Dapper.**_

Magnus smiled, but it quickly vanished when the elevator doors opened to reveal the splendidly wrinkled yet fashionable Yzma waiting by his cubicle and talking to Raphael. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and hurried towards them, smoothing down his shirt instinctively.

"Thank you for joining us, Magnus," she called as he neared them.

"I was just on a lunch break, ma'am," he replied. "I have the revisions almost done, I plan to have the spread in by three."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be fine," she waved it off. "How do you feel about supervising an intern?"

Magnus's brain stuttered. "An intern?" he replied slowly. He'd started out as an intern himself, working in Sales. The design team took a handful of college interns every fall and kept them for the next year. Magnus hated the Design interns with a passion. They usually let the fact that they'd been chosen to work in Design go to their heads, when in reality they didn't do much besides fetch coffee and top up office supplies for the first few months. At least the Sales interns did some actual work. Magnus did not like the idea of having an intern around almost constantly, but this was the boss making the request in person.

"Yes Magnus, an intern. I'd like you to be the one to supervise her for a month or so. You're the youngest in this department- you have to work with the interns eventually," she pointed out.

Magnus figured he could last a month without strangling some college girl. "I can handle that," he said finally.

"Wonderful. Raphael has her application for you to look over, and she'll be here starting next Monday." Yzma walked away, heels clicking.

"Looks like you're not getting booted back to Sales," Raphael remarked under his breath once the boss was gone. He passed Magnus a folder. "Here's her file."

Magnus took it and collapsed in his chair, heart still thudding from the shock of seeing the boss waiting for him. Raphael had a point- he wouldn't be given an intern if Yzma was seriously considering kicking him out of Design. He supposed staying on the design team was worth dealing with the intern for a month.

"Don't take it as an invitation to slack on the spread," Raphael warned, snapping his fingers in front of Magnus's face. "You told her you'd have it in by three. You have forty minutes."

"Right," Magnus sat up straight. "I've got it, thank you," he said dismissively, spinning back around to his computer. He felt newly invigorated. There was no way in hell Jonathan's spread was going in the fall issue when Magnus was around.

* * *

 **A/N: I had some fun fleshing out Magnus's workplace! I'm still figuring out how to have our lovers accidentally run into each other, but don't worry, it'll happen. I'm creating a web of characters here, slowly but surely.**

 **Back to Alec next chapter! I'm hoping it'll pick up a little now, so we don't have to keep going on a day-by-day basis. Let me know what you think of the story so far!**

 **~ Bobbi**


	5. Butterbeer Frappuccino

**A/N: ..hey...I finished my freshman year of college...figured I might as well update while I had a bit of free time after finals.**

 **Disclaimer: why would i be writing fanfic for a book series i own srsly**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Butterbeer Frappuccino**

Alec jolted awake, about eighty percent sure the fire alarms were going off and the apartment was burning and he needed to get Jace and Max and any valuables out of the building immediately.

Then his brain began functioning about as properly as it could at six in the morning, and Alec realized that noise was Max's alarm rather than the fire alarm.

The younger boy automatically hit snooze on his phone before drawing his hand back and burrowing deeper into his blanket burrito. Alec blearily rubbed his eyes, wondering why Max had to set such a loud alarm to wake up in the mornings. He briefly debated trying to snatch another hour or so of sleep before heading to work, but the knowledge that Jace would be up and banging about the small apartment soon quickly killed that idea. Besides, it had been a while since he'd gotten up early anyway. There was supposed to be some kind of benefit to being an early bird.

"Max, get up," he muttered, attempting to sound authoritative. "Before that thing goes off again."

"Don't have to get up for another fifteen minutes," the younger boy responded, yawning.

Alec sighed and pushed himself up. He didn't blame Max for getting as much sleep as he could- he still vaguely remembered the high school days of getting up before the sun. However, he'd forgotten how brutal it was. He pulled the blankets aside and made his way out of bed, before reaching his hands above his head and stretching himself awake. There was a reason university students detested 8 a.m classes and avoided them like the plague.

Yawning, Alec checked his phone, swiping aside the usual mess of email newsletters and random social media notifications to get to the important stuff. A text from Izzy that elicited a frustrated groan- _Did I leave my wallet over there?_ \- and a quick follow up message reassuring Alec she'd located the wallet. His sister needed to be a lot more responsible while wandering through the city. Besides that, nothing.

"Max, what do you want for breakfast?" he asked, deciding he might as well make a proper breakfast for his brothers if he was going to be awake.

Max murmured indistinctly from within his cocoon, which Alec took to mean pancakes would work. He made his way to the bathroom at the end of the hall, rapping on Jace's door sharply as he passed and hollering that only early risers would get pancakes. He heard a strangely high-pitched squeal from within, then the door swung open to reveal a curly-haired redhead wearing one of Jace's hoodies.

"You're making pancakes?" Clary questioned, following him into the bathroom.

"For Max," Alec replied. "What time did you get here?" He was used to Clary randomly appearing in the apartment, but he was pretty sure he hadn't heard her at midnight when he went to bed. If she'd arrived afterwards, that was awfully late.

"Around 1:30," Clary reached over and grabbed the spare toothbrush that was basically hers at this point. "I was at Simon's concert, and I ducked out of the afterparty before he did for once. It was a really great show, so I figured the celebration would take awhile and called Jace to see if I could crash here for the night."

Simon was an undergrad student at NYU as well. Alec didn't know much of him, just that he was Clary's best friend and had a weird rivalry with Jace. It didn't concern Alec, seeing as he'd only spoken to Simon a couple of times since Jace and Clary had started dating a few months ago.

"You're surprisingly functional on only four and a half hours of sleep," Alec remarked, grabbing his own toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste before Clary could.

"Guess I'm still young," she shot back, stealing the toothpaste once Alec had squeezed out what he needed. Clary was one of the very few college students Alec knew who didn't have a crippling caffeine dependency, something that still amazed him. Alec himself couldn't leave his apartment without a cup of coffee in his system, or bad things would happen.

Brushing his teeth and splashing some cold water in his face certainly helped the process of waking up, if not as effectively as caffeine. Tasking Clary with getting her boyfriend ready to go by 7:15, Alec walked to the kitchen, noting that Max was successfully sitting up in bed. It was kind of nice being up this early, Alec mused. Sure, soon he would have to deal with getting his brothers out the door, but there was something to be said for the early morning atmosphere of New York City. The city was still busy, but the pink sunlight made it all seem softer, ready for a new day. Maybe Alec would get up early more often from now on- he wouldn't be able to keep flexible hours at the library forever, anyway.

He set to work brewing some precious coffee and tracking down anything in the kitchen that could be used in a pancake bar. Clary joined him as he poured his coffee into a mug, wrinkling her nose when she saw he was drinking it black as usual.

"I don't know how you stomach that," she remarked, pulling out some milk and sugar for her own cup.

Alec shrugged. "Guess it comes with old age," he joked. He always took his coffee black in the mornings- it was just a habit. He drank it other ways during the day, but he needed a cup of black coffee to really wake him up. "Is Jace up?"

Clary nodded. "I got him to agree to go shower so he can have pancakes."

On cue, a loud banging on the bathroom door resounded through the apartment. "Max! You're not the only one who needs to shower!" Jace hollered. "Hurry it up!"

Alec laughed. "Guess I better start cooking," he said. "Clary, what do you like on your pancakes?"

Clary proved to be useful in finding some fruit and chocolate chips to serve as toppings, along with the usual butter and maple syrup. Max emerged from the bathroom and followed the smell of pancakes to the kitchen, eventually joined by Jace. Watching his two brothers eat, Alec was glad he'd started making breakfast before they got out of the bathroom. He was pretty sure he'd made about thirty pancakes, and these two gluttons had downed about twenty between them. Shaking his head, he cut into his own more modest stack topped with butter, blueberries, and syrup.

"So, Clary," Alec began, attempting to ignore the noises of his brothers eating, "how goes the internship search?"

Clary held a thumbs up as she finished chewing her mouthful of pancake. "Great! I'm starting at my new internship next week," she replied brightly.

"Congratulations! Where at?"

"A fashion magazine called Seasons," Clary shrugged. "Isabelle suggested I apply to the design department because she loves that magazine. I wasn't expecting to get into a fashion place."

Clary was an artist in her free time, and Alec knew her major had something to do with art as well. "That'll be a learning experience, if nothing else," Alec commented. He wasn't particularly fond of fashion himself, and he couldn't keep track of all the different magazines his sister loved reading. "What will you be doing?"

"I have no idea," Clary laughed. "I think I get assigned to one of their employees and help them out for a few weeks to start off. It's supposed to be a really competitive internship program over there because of how popular the magazine is."

"You'll be fine. You're talented," Alec reassured her. The conversation was then cut short when Alec had to break up an argument between Max and Jace over the last pancake and remind them both that it was approaching seven and they had to be out the door soon. Grumbling, both boys finished their breakfast and went to go grab their things. Clary smartly snatched the last pancake as they left, smiling nonchalantly at Alec.

It wasn't long before the oldest Lightwood was alone in the apartment. Jace yelled something about being back with Max by 5 before leaving with his girlfriend and younger brother in tow. The door slammed shut, and all at once the apartment grew quiet. Alec enjoyed the calm for a bit, sipping the last of his coffee, before standing up to put the clean dishes away and load the dishwasher with the dirty ones. He noted it was about 7:30- he didn't have to be at the library until nine. That gave him enough time to finish cleaning up, shower, and maybe even write for a little bit. He could go to the library early and get some work done.

Wiping down the table and the stove robotically, Alex let his mind wander to his to-do list. He had so much more to do as a law school student than he'd had last year as a college senior, something unexpected since he'd thought his workload would taper off dramatically once law school applications were done and he actually started attending Columbia Law. Let's see...in things related to law school, there were a dozen readings that were somehow all due by the end of the week, that paper he had to start at some point, and one of his professors had briefly mentioned getting involved in moot court. Alec wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd originally planned on writing for the law review since he'd always enjoyed the reading and writing aspect of law more than the trial aspect, but he supposed he could afford to become a more well-rounded lawyer. It certainly wouldn't hurt to pick up a moot court flier and go to a meeting, if only because he liked the professor who'd suggested it.

Finishing up in the kitchen, Alec picked out his outfit for the day- jeans and a simple dark blue shirt, as he wore most days- before hopping in the shower and continuing to work through his to-do list. Aside from all his law school stuff, he had to figure out Max's suit for his homecoming dance on Saturday at some point. Max had grown out of all his formal wear, and Maryse had shoved a wad of cash into Alec's hand when she'd dropped off Max and asked him to please buy him a new suit since she didn't have time to. Alec really thought that was a job for Jace rather than him, but he could see why he'd been entrusted with the money.

He exited the shower and quickly towelled his hair dry and got dressed. He could already tell today would be a long day.

* * *

Alec hid his yawn behind his hand, fighting the urge to let his head slump forward where he sat at the library's help desk. He peered at his watch and stifled a groan as he realized it was only 9:30. He still had a good five and a half hours left in his double-shift, and it was pretty slow considering midterms hadn't really started yet. Working at the Diamond Law Library was a huge opportunity- he reminded himself of this every time he got bored- but it was kind of a drag on Wednesday mornings.

Deciding that thirty minutes into the shift was long enough to go without using his phone, Alec pulled it out and checked his texts, eyes widening as he noticed one from the "secret admirer" he'd been talking to yesterday.

 _My friend says the guy who gave me your number had a British accent and a silver-haired Asian friend with him._

Alec really did let his head drop onto the desk this time, screaming internally as he realized which two people fit those descriptions. Who the hell did those British relatives of his think they were?

He quickly sat back up, readying himself for a confrontation. He knew Will and Jem were back in London now- his mom had texted him that they'd all landed safely the previous day- and it was about 1:30 in the afternoon over there, so he had no qualms about leaving his desk for a few minutes to hide in a bathroom stall and call Will.

"What the hell?" Alec snapped the moment Will's voice greeted him.

"Alec, so good to be hearing from you so soon," Will replied. Alec could practically hear the smug grin his British look-alike no doubt had plastered on his face. "It's only been a day since we left."

"What the damn hell do you think you're doing handing out my cell phone number in bars?" Alec ignored Will's teasing and plowed ahead. "You may be family, but I don't even let my siblings get away with doing that crap, and you are not as close to me as they are."

"Well, first of all, it was Jem's idea." Alec heard a second voice faintly in the background as Will said this, presumably Jem piping up to deny the accusation. "And second of all, considering what Jace told me about the state of your love life, I thought it wouldn't hurt to give your number to this one man. He seemed like he'd make good use of it. And Jem didn't try that hard to stop me, so really, it can't have been that bad of an idea."

Alec opened his mouth to yell again, then paused, realizing he had a valuable opportunity to learn about the man he'd been texting. "Who did you give it to?"

"A poor heart-broken soul, grieving from loss and looking for a new chance at true love," Will sighed dramatically.

Alec rolled his eyes. "Oh, for- give it to Jem." He waited as the phone changed hands. "Jem, come on, what weirdo did Will hand out my number to?"

"Um...I don't really know that much about him." Jem said hesitantly. "He was pretty drunk."

That certainly made Alec feel better. "What did he look like?"

"Attractive, for sure."

"How so?" Alec pressed through gritted teeth.

"I don't remember, it was pretty dark," Jem said vaguely. "Tall, pretty fit."

"You're not telling me things on purpose, aren't you?" Alec sighed.

"Yeah, Will might cry if I ruin his fun. You have the hot guy's number. Make a move," Jem half-joked. "It was nice hearing from you, Alec. Let us know how it goes with him." With that, the call ended.

Alec shook his head, wondering why these things happened to him and why the majority of his family seemed certifiably insane when he himself was usually pretty rational. He went back to his text messages to reply to the stranger.

 _ **Thanks, that actually helped.**_

At least his story about going through a breakup checked out, meaning he wasn't lying about that much. Alec decided it wouldn't hurt to keep talking to this guy. Will was joking when he'd said it, but he was right- Jem would have stopped him from giving Alec's number out to anyone really dangerous or off-putting, and Jem was pretty good at reading people.

Maybe crazy British relatives could know what they were doing.

* * *

1:00 pm rolled around, finding Alec sipping an iced coffee and munching on a couple of scones from the first-floor cafe. He was famished, and he'd forgotten to pack his lunch that morning despite having a good thirty minutes of downtime after everyone had left. Adding a daily reminder to pack lunch in his phone helped him feel a little better about his stupid mistake, but he was still sore about his boss not letting him pop to the McDonald's next door for a few minutes to grab some more substantial food. Coffee and scones hardly counted as lunch.

His phone lit up with a text from the stranger. Feeling too pissed at his boss to care about whether he should be on his phone or not, Alec unlocked his phone and read the message.

 _You're welcome. How'd your paper go?_

It was pretty nice of him to ask, Alec acknowledged. He winced as he recalled how little progress he'd made on that behemoth of a paper last night.

 _ **I typed my name and the title, does that count as progress?**_

 _Sure, I won't tell._

The stranger responded pretty quickly. Maybe he was taking a lunch break as well.

 _ **What are you up to?**_

 _Lunch break at work._

Alec smirked, proud of himself for being right.

 _ **Same. Kind of.**_

Alec wouldn't call his coffee and pastries lunch, but this was generally around the time he ate lunch, so it was a lunch break.

 _Where do you work at?_

Well, that was just breaking the rules.

 _ **That's personal.**_

 _Just a general idea, then. I work in fashion._

Fashion, huh? Alec chuckled to himself slightly, glancing down at the jeans he'd owned for five years and the plain blue T-shirt. Chances were this stranger could join Izzy in complaining about Alec's abysmal taste in clothes.

 _ **I do stuff with books.**_

 _You like to read?_

 _ **Yup**_ **.** Alec took another sip of his coffee. _**I'm a nerd.**_

 _Or you're just smart._

 _ **Maybe, but my little sister seems pretty convinced I'm a nerd. You'd like her, she loves fashion.**_

 _And you don't?_

 _ **I don't dislike it as much as I don't understand it. Too much effort.**_

 _That's where you're wrong._ This response came a little bit slower, and Alec got the sense he was about to end up in a discussion on why he should be more fashionable. At least this one wasn't with Izzy. _Fashion is all about making sure you feel good and look good when you go out there to kick ass in the world. It's not too much work to make a good first impression and make sure you're confident in the clothes you're wearing when you do it._

Alec smiled. He was clearly very passionate about his industry, hence why he'd chosen to work in it. _**I spend most of my days hanging out with some books behind a desk, so I feel like that doesn't really apply to me.**_

 _Is that your long term plan? To hang out with some books forever?_

 _ **Yeah, I'll die alone.**_ Wondering how the man would take the joking response, Alec quickly glanced up to make sure no one was watching him or trying to get his attention. The library was a little more full now, but everyone was bent to their homework, rather than searching for materials. And the supervisor was nowhere in sight.

 _Well, even if it's that the case, it's still important to look and feel good in your clothes._

 _ **Why?**_

 _What's your favorite color?_

Seemed like an unrelated question, but Alec answered truthfully. Favorite color was common enough that the stranger wouldn't be able to track him down using it.

 _ **Blue.**_

 _All right, so you probably like to wear blue?_

Alec glanced down at the dark blue shirt and jeans he was wearing at that very moment, which was a pretty standard outfit for him. It was a reasonable assumption.

 _ **Yeah, and?**_

 _Since it's your favorite color, you feel better wearing it than other colors, right?_

 _ **I guess that's one way of putting it.**_

 _When you're comfortable in what you're wearing, it shows in your everyday actions and makes you more confident and attractive._

Alec snorted. _**That seems like a stretch.**_

 _So you've never felt uncomfortable in something and had it impact your day?_

When he put it that way, it actually kind of made sense, Alec reflected. Every time his mom would buy him some bright shirt or starchy suit and force him to wear it, he'd always ended up rather grumpy until he could change into something blue or black.

 _ **You've got a point there.**_

 _Exactly! At its core, fashion is about helping people find the colors, patterns, cuts, and overall style that help them feel confident in different situations in life._

That was certainly a deeper explanation than he'd been expecting, to be fair. He'd never heard anything like that come out of Izzy's mouth when she'd been whining at him to wear nicer clothes.

 _ **You might just have me convinced.**_ Alec texted back. _**But unfortunately, no amount of fashion magic will ever make me more confident than my daily dose of caffeine.**_

 _Ah, another Starbucks addict._

 _ **Absolutely not.**_ He wrinkled his nose. _**I only go there if I'm going into withdrawal or something.**_

 _Excuse me, I meant to type: ah, another coffee snob._

 _ **Just a man with good taste, my friend.**_

 _Clearly false, or have you simply never had a Butterbeer Frappuccino?_

 _ **A what?**_

 _You are missing OUT._

Alec chuckled to himself as an explanation of the Butterbeer Frappuccino and instructions on how to order it quickly arrived on his phone in ten different text messages. He'd definitely pushed a button.

 _ **Maybe I'll try it just to tell you it sucks.**_

 _If you think it sucks I'll eat my favorite scarf._

 _ **Is that a bet?**_

 _Absolutely, if you want it to be._

 _ **Consider it a bet.**_

There was a bit of a pause, and he briefly wondered if he'd said the wrong thing before the next message popped up.

 _Hey, I have to get back to work._

Alec checked the time, and realized it had been much longer than a quick chat. And his supervisor would be showing up any second…

 _ **I should too tbh.**_

 _Before I go, what can I call you?_

 _ **What?**_

 _You know, a nickname or something._

A nickname? What on Earth for?

 _ **Uh idk.**_

 _Fine. I'll just call you Blue._

 _ **Real creative. By that logic, I'll call you Dapper.**_

The text received no response, and Alec assumed "Dapper" had simply gone back to work. He discreetly slipped his phone in his bag and nonchalantly began flipping through the pages of his textbook as if he'd been doing it all afternoon as his supervisor rounded the corner.

* * *

"...and that concludes the lesson for the day." Professor Hodge finally said the words every student in that Torts class had been waiting for since he'd launched into lecture mode forty-five minutes ago. Alec enjoyed speaking with the man and absorbing his love of the law, but his brain just couldn't handle the complexities of it today for some reason.

"Have a good day everyone, and don't forget about moot court informational meetings over the weekend." The professor winked at Alec and gestured at the stack of fliers on his desk. "Feel free to grab a flier or look at it on social media."

What could he do but grab a flier? He smiled at the professor and obediently took a flier off the top of the stack, glancing at it on the way out. Saturday was Max's homecoming….better go to the meeting on Sunday then.

And speaking of Max's homecoming, it was about time to take the younger boy suit shopping. Alec briefly considered asking Dapper for advice, but quickly changed his mind. There was no need to come on so strong, and Isabelle was right there to help anyway.

What a way to end his Wednesday.

* * *

 **A/N: Who knows? Maybe I'll actually write a chapter a month this summer. I've got it all planned out, it just needs to hop out of my brain onto the paper. Let me know what y'all think!**

 **~Bobbi**


	6. Homecoming

**A/N: I want it on the record that I started writing this chapter mere hours after I posted the last one. I don't know when I'll finish it, but I started with good intentions.**

 **Also, I stated in an earlier chapter that Ragnor was a student at NYU Law. This was a mistake, as he actually attends Columbia Law, and I've corrected the mistake in the chapter I mentioned it in.**

 **Disclaimer: blah blahhhh don't own itttttt**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Homecoming**

Saturday. The best day of the week, as far as Magnus was concerned. The day you could sleep in and stay up late, because work was over and Monday was still a day away. Every Saturday, he was practically itching to go hit the clubs even if he hadn't fully recovered from last night's shenanigans.

Not this Saturday, though.

This Saturday was decidedly different. It wasn't different in all aspects by any means- after all, it was almost noon and Magnus was still lying in bed. That was some pretty typical Saturday behavior for him. And he had in fact stayed up late the night before, but not for party reasons. Nope, he'd spent his Friday night texting back and forth with his new friend Blue for hours.

He reread the last text Blue had sent him, a simple "Good night" around 3 am when they'd finally decided to go to sleep, and smiled a little bit. It had been a while since he'd let someone new into his life, and honestly, he was enjoying getting to know this new person.

"Magnus!" Ragnor rapped sharply on the door. "Your cat's losing his mind out here, what do I do?"

"I don't think he's just my cat if he's living with both of us," Magnus hollered back. Still, he reluctantly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had to start doing things eventually, and saving the Chairman from Ragnor's incompetence was priority number one.

Throwing a sideways glance into his mirror to make sure he didn't look too gross, Magnus opened the door to see the Chairman yowling at an irritated Ragnor.

"What does he even want?" Ragnor huffed.

"Sustenance, Ragnor, the same as all living creatures," Magnus remarked dryly.

"Why did you even sleep in so late?" Ragnor continued as Magnus bent down to pick up the hungry cat. "You didn't go out last night. I got home from the library at 11 and you were in your room….which never happens on a Friday. Are you sick?" Ragnor's tone changed as he squinted suspiciously at his roommate.

"I'm fine," Magnus brushed past him and made his way over to the kitchen with the cat. "I just had work to do, okay? I'm capable of prioritizing."

"Oh yeah? What work were you doing?" Ragnor questioned.

"I was preparing for my new intern," Magnus lied smoothly as he prepared the Chairman's food. It was definitely what he should have been doing, seeing as she was starting on Monday and he needed to give her things to do, but what did Ragnor know?

"So, what's their name?" Ragnor asked nonchalantly.

"Claire." Magnus replied. He'd briefly glanced at her file when he'd gotten it, and he was pretty sure that was the name.

"Where do they go to school?"

"NYU." That was a pretty safe bet.

"What's their major?" Ragnor prodded on.

"...graphic design." It was a reasonable guess, and it could have been right for all either of them knew, but he'd hesitated too long.

"You were not working." Ragnor declared triumphantly. "You were texting that boy Blue again."

Magnus groaned. "Fine, I was, but it's not that big of a deal."

"I didn't say that it was." Ragnor continued grinning. "I just think it's interesting that you're texting him so much is all, but hey! Who am I to judge?"

Magnus grumbled as he placed the Chairman's bowl on the floor. "I'm just getting to know him. It's fun to learn about someone new. I haven't done that in a long time."

"And I'm sure there's nothing else at play here?" Ragnor said smugly.

"Nothing! I haven't even seen the guy. All I know is that he has blue eyes."

"Your favorite." Ragnor sang playfully.

"Okay, now I'm actually going to work." Magnus turned his back on his annoying roommate and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

He didn't know what had gotten into Ragnor's head this morning. Sure, Magnus had been texting Blue a decent amount over the past couple of days, but that was normal at the start of a friendship. Hell, when he'd first befriended Ragnor in college, he would spend days at a time in Ragnor's dorm talking at him about whatever popped into his head. Compared to that, his texting relationship with Blue was nothing intense at all. Ragnor was just too optimistic about him moving on from Camille.

Camille….

Magnus squirted some toothpaste out onto his toothbrush and thought about his on and off again girlfriend as he brushed away. He'd already disposed of her toothbrush, and Ragnor had done a good job of throwing out any belongings she'd left in the common areas of the loft, but he'd yet to go through the process of cleaning out his bedroom. He could already imagine what he'd find….some shoes she'd left behind, a sweater or two no doubt, make-up, and of course, the fuzzy handcuffs under the bed.

There was no way he was going to start his day off like that, he decided. Actually reviewing the intern's file was looking more and more appealing.

He spat out the toothpaste and rinsed out his mouth, before deciding to go ahead and shower. It was better to feel good and look good before getting to work, after all.

* * *

 _Name: Clarissa Fray_

 _Age: 21_

 _School: New York University_

 _Major: Graphic Design_

The typical list of information about his new intern was accompanied by her headshot. A pale, freckled redhead with bright green eyes and an equally bright smile beamed at him through the picture. Magnus could already tell she had a tremendous amount of energy, and his suspicions were confirmed as he read through the remainder of the application she'd submitted. Loved art since she was a child….a lot of independent experience….wanted to use art to change the world….the same sort of stuff a lot of interns submitted every year. To be fair, her portfolio was impressive enough to support her statements.

Magnus munched on his sandwich as he continued to read through his new intern's file in the kitchen. Hopefully her experience with independent work meant she wouldn't require too much supervision….but on the other hand, this seemed to be her first time working in the fashion industry. That was surprising, since the internship was so competitive.

 _Do you have any relatives currently employed by Seasons Magazine?: Yes_

Well, that seemed to explain that. The name of the employee she was related to was redacted, and Magnus couldn't recall ever meeting anyone else with the last name Fray in his years working for Seasons. Shrugging, he decided not to hold any nepotism that might have played a role in her selection against her. For all he knew, she was related to a low-level employee, not some all-powerful executive. And her work was certainly very good, although Magnus could definitely see a few areas that could use improvement. Hey, nobody's perfect, especially not in college.

"Magnus, I'm making pasta for dinner when I get back, so don't order in or stuff yourself." Ragnor brushed by his roommate with his rather full backpack in tow, no doubt headed for the library once again. Even though he'd only just started his second year at Columbia Law, he was already basically living in the Diamond Law Library again, much like he'd been last year around exam season.

"You know if you study too much, your brain will melt out of your ears." Magnus said teasingly.

"I'm going to work for a bit before I study," Ragnor replied as he tugged on his shoes. "Rent's gotta come from somewhere."

Magnus hummed in acknowledgement, not really listening anymore as he examined Clarissa's file again. He already had some ideas for how to keep her busy during the internship, and he found himself actually a little excited to meet her.

"Bye!" Magnus was jolted out of his thoughts again by Ragnor slamming the door shut, and the Chairman whined his displeasure at the loud noise.

"Well, what shall we do on our Saturday alone in the apartment, Chairman?" Magnus closed the file, deciding that was enough work for one day.

The cat did not reply, having already curled back up into his nap.

"That's a very good idea," Magnus said drily. "I was picturing something more productive, though."

He stood up and stretched, figuring he had about five hours until Ragnor came home around 8 pm, assuming Ragnor remembered to drag himself out of the library and come home, of course. It seemed like as good a time as any to tackle the task of removing Camille's presence from his bedroom.

* * *

Magnus finally sat on the floor of his bedroom and surveyed his progress. Overall, he thought he'd successfully located and discarded every single thing that Camille had left in his bedroom, with the exception of the bottle of perfume that he'd broken in his closet. Ugh, the sickeningly sweet smell of roses would linger on his clothes for _days._ He didn't understand how he'd ever found that scent appealing on Camille.

She just had that effect on him, he supposed. He'd been with Camille for years, and she had an almost hypnotic influence when they were together. Ragnor had pointed it out, and of course, Magnus had never wanted to listen, but now things were different.

She had cheated on him.

Not just messed around with some guy in a bar. Camille did that quite frequently, and Magnus had always been rather willing to put up with it. It was part of her influence. She messed around, and he didn't mind that often because he believed she still loved him. And on the rare occasion that it did bother him, she would dump him and make it seem like his fault until she inevitably got jealous of whoever he started dating after her. It was a reliable pattern, to say the least.

But now, she'd dumped him to be with someone else. Someone she hadn't made out with on a random night, but who she'd actually been seeing and dating and having sex with over and over again behind Magnus' back.

It broke the pattern. It was different. And somehow, that was enough to help shake Magnus out of the hypnosis, just a little.

He couldn't end up back with her again, he decided.

There would be no hoarding of her belongings, no carefully hiding them from Ragnor and treasuring them until she came back. He'd throw them out, maybe ceremonially burn them, and remove Camille from his life once and for all.

The idea made him feel better.

His cell phone buzzed, quickly drawing him out of his thoughts of Camille, and he smiled briefly as he saw it was a text from Blue.

 _ **You're a fashion guy, right?**_

 _The very definition of a "fashion guy". What's up?_

 _ **I've got something of a fashion emergency on my hands.**_

Magnus raised his eyebrows, intrigued. How could the bookish, introverted Blue have landed himself in a situation where even his sister's fashion expertise couldn't help?

 _How'd that happen?_

 _ **My brother's headed to homecoming, and the suit I bought him got a paint stain on the pants I can't get out. Do you know how to fix that?**_

Magnus winced. That poor suit…

 _Nothing's going to fix that on short notice, Blue Eyes. It needs to be dry cleaned._

 _ **Damn. Thanks anyway.**_

Well, there was no way Magnus was going to let him go without some kind of solution for his troubles.

 _Tell me, what exactly was your brother planning on wearing? I could help think of an alternative._

 _ **He's coordinating with his date, who's wearing a light blue dress. He had black suit pants, a white button down shirt, and a matching light blue tie.**_

 _That's perfectly fixable_ _._ Magnus reassured him. _Tell me this, does he have a pair of khakis he can wear?_

 _ **Yes, he's got light khakis.**_

 _Have him wear the khakis instead of the black dress pants. It's still appropriate for homecoming that way._

 _ **Okay, he seems fine with that.**_

 _Perfect! Now he's homecoming ready and coordinated with his date._

 _ **Great, thanks so much.**_

 _No problem._ Magnus chuckled, envisioning poor uneducated Blue fussing over his little brother in his suit as best as he could. _How did the pants get stained?_

 _ **It's a long story. Basically, the result of some bad planning.**_

 _Tell it to me when you have time, then._

 _ **I will. And also, I finally tried the Butterbeer Frappuccino.**_

Magnus raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been expecting that at all.

 _Oh? What did you think?_

 _ **I think you don't have to eat your favorite scarf, for now.**_

 _I knew it._

 _ **Shut up.**_ Magnus smiled slightly to himself. _**Anyway, gotta run. Ttyl?**_

 _Of course._

Magnus put the phone aside, definitely feeling a bit lighter than he had before. He didn't even notice that he was still smiling.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, that actually got finished pretty quickly! I know this is kind of a short chapter, but it's main purpose is just to set up some stuff that'll make the story really interesting going forward. Next chapter is a bit more of setting up the story, then I promise it'll get really good. I'd appreciate knowing what y'all think so far!**

 **~Bobbi**


	7. Moot Court

**A/N: I would like to state yet again for the record that I started writing this chapter before I even posted the last one! I am on a roll so far, but once again, no clue when I'm gonna finish.**

 **Disclaimer: ti nwo ton od I do not own it**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Moot Court**

"Max, it's lunchtime!" Alec hollered from the kitchen, knowing fully well that wouldn't be enough to pull his brother from the bedroom. Still, a man could try.

"Is he still asleep?" Clary asked. She, Jace, and Izzy were already munching on the pizzas Alec had ordered for lunch. So much for waiting for the host.

"Of course he is. The little guy went to his first high school dance ever, with a date, after a fashion emergency! He must be exhausted." Izzy said sympathetically.

"When did you even get here?" Alec turned his attention onto her. She had definitely not been there when he'd picked up Max and returned home around midnight.

"I popped in earlier around 8. Hooked up with a Columbia guy who lives nearby, decided I didn't want to talk to him in the morning," Isabelle replied, shrugging. Jace choked on his pizza, Clary giggled, and Alec groaned internally. There _had_ to be a way to stop the girls from coming and going from his apartment as they pleased. He was tired of waking up in the morning and finding them hanging out like they lived there. Maybe he could start charging them part of the rent…or somehow steal Izzy's key away from her….

"Did you talk to his date at all?" Jace asked, pulling Alec back to reality. Ah yes, Max's date, the girl he had a crush on. None of them except Isabelle knew that much about that girl, until Alec had the opportunity to meet her last night.

"Just a little." Alec shrugged. "Her name's Anna, she's in his math class. Smart, nice, and Max definitely adores her. And she didn't seem to care that _someone_ ruined the outfit Max originally had planned." Jace winced at Alec's pointed glare.

"Do you guys think Mom and Dad will let him date her?" Isabelle piped up.

"I don't see why not. He's not like you, Izzy." Jace teased, quickly ducking to dodge the pizza crust that flew at his head in retaliation.

"We'll deal with that when Mom and Dad get back. First, let's get Max actually out of bed." Alec grabbed a plate and piled on a few slices of pepperoni pizza, Max's favorite, before making his way to his bedroom.

Cracking the door open, he peeked in just enough to see that Max was still rolled up into his blanket burrito.

"Hey Maxy…" Alec called softly. "I got you some pizza…."

Max didn't stir.

Sighing, Alec made his way into the room and knelt next to the futon where Max was sleeping.

"Max, come on." He reached out and poked him gently. "It's noon already. You've got homework and stuff to do before school tomorrow, right?"

Max still didn't stir.

"And if you get up now, I've got pepperoni." Alec offered, holding up the plate.

Max finally poked his head out, just enough to look at the pizza he was offered. "Where's it from?"

"That's super unhealthy place a couple streets over that Mom and Dad don't like us eating from." Alec winked at him. "Come on, brush your teeth and you can have some."

"And you won't tell Mom and Dad?"

"What happens here, stays here," he promised.

With that, Max sat up. "Tell Jace to leave some for me!" he said as he jumped out of bed and sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Will do my best," Alec called through the closed bathroom door. Food always worked on his younger siblings.

"Congratulations, you managed the impossible." Jace said sarcastically as Alec made his way back to the kitchen.

"Actually, this is the impossible." Alec closed the pepperoni pizza box and pulled it away from Jace and Clary. "This one's for Max and I. Eat something else, that's your punishment for yesterday."

Jace groaned, but stood up and began searching for some snack to diminish his hunger. Isabelle continued munching on her cheese slice, a glint in her eye. Alec had a feeling he wouldn't like what she was going to say next.

"So, Alec, Clary tells me you had quite the stroke of genius last night."

Great. They were going to discuss the suit incident.

Alec turned to glare at Clary, who winced apologetically. "Sorry, she pried it out of me."

Clary had plenty to apologize for, considering it was her paint that had wound up on Max's brand new suit pants, and her boyfriend who'd caused it. Luckily, it was nothing a trip to the dry cleaner's couldn't handle, but it was still rather inconvenient to have to replace Max's pants. She should know better than to paint in the same apartment as Jace by now.

"Look, it wasn't a stretch of the imagination by any means." Alec shrugged. "Khakis work for homecoming, I saw guys wearing them in high school."

"You went to one homecoming in high school," his sister pointed out.

"Has men's fashion really changed that much?" he responded drily.

"Maybe, but you're not really the kind of guy who would know that, are you?"

"I can be fashionable in an emergency."

"Says the nerd who once showed up to an interview in sneakers," Isabelle scoffed.

Clary watched the rapid-fire exchange like it was an intense showdown between two experienced tennis players who refused to miss the ball. Jace, meanwhile, was much less interested in watching Alec and Izzy match wits for the thousandth time, and had floated over to the living room with some potato chips.

"I'm better with fashion stuff when it comes to other people," Alec defended himself.

"You almost burned my hair off dying it at home instead of letting me getting it done professionally."

"That was once, and I was fifteen."

"You were fifteen when you went to homecoming too!"

"What do you want me to say, Izzy?" Alec huffed in exasperation. "Okay, so I looked it up to make sure khakis were an acceptable substitute for suit pants. What's the big deal?"

"I want you to admit you didn't look it up," Isabelle responded stubbornly.

"What?" Clary chimed in, undoubtedly a little confused.

"Yeah, what?" Alec concurred, not letting his exterior betray that his sister was onto something. He hadn't exactly told everyone that he'd kept in contact with Dapper, let alone how often he talked to the man.

"You asked your friend Dapper about it, didn't you?"

"Who the _hell_ is Dapper?" Jace called from the living room. Apparently, he was still paying attention.

"It's what he's calling his secret admirer," Izzy teased.

"Why call him Dapper?" Alec jumped as Max spoke up. He hadn't noticed the boy come out of the bathroom and wander over to the kitchen, but there he was, munching on his pizza and enjoying the show.

"Because unlike Alec, this secret admirer is very fashionable," his sister smirked. "And he's the one who solved your little pants problem last night when I wasn't around to, only Alec won't admit it."

All eyes turned to Alec, even Jace's from the living room, and he felt himself turning red.

"How do you know about all that?" he finally asked.

"You left your phone while you were busy waking up Max." Isabelle said nonchalantly, holding up the phone in question. "Can't blame me for taking a quick skim."

Alec _really_ needed to activate the fingerprint lock on his phone.

"That's an invasion of privacy," he scolded meekly, snatching back the phone from his sister's hands.

"It's not like she read your texts to your best friends or family, Alec, just some random stranger." Max pointed out.

"Not some random stranger, his secret admirer Dapper!" Jace laughed. "Tell me, Alec, did you name him or did he ask you to call him that?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "I'm going to the library and pretending I'm an only child!" he declared loudly, shoving his way past his nosy sister to grab his backpack from his bedroom. He wasn't completely running away- he had plenty of homework to catch up on since Max's homecoming had taken a lot of attention, and he had that moot court meeting to go to later. Both were excellent excuses to leave the apartment that had far too many people laughing at him in it.

"Bye, Blue!" Izzy called as he passed her again on his way out of the apartment, and all of them giggled.

Alec held up a rather inappropriate finger in response before closing the front door a bit too hard behind him.

* * *

Three o'clock rolled around to find Alec in a moot court informational session and sorely regretting his decision to attend.

He was absolutely surrounded by Columbia Law students who had more confidence in their little fingers than Alec had in his entire body. That was saying something, seeing as Alec wasn't exactly on the short end of the spectrum. He could overhear snippets of conversations, people talking about their prior moot court or mock trial experience….oh God, why had he thought this was a good idea?

Developing new skills be damned, Alec felt like he was going to suffocate if he spent one more minute in this room. He quickly ran out the door he'd come from and slumped against the wall in the hallway just outside, sighing deeply with relief and ignoring the odd looks he got from some other students entering the room.

No one ever understood why Alec wanted to be a lawyer when he was so lacking in confidence and public speaking ability, and Alec barely understood it himself at times. He wanted justice, and he'd decided the best way he could fight for justice was through the legal system. But, how on Earth was he supposed to even think about stepping foot in a courtroom when he got all anxious from standing in a crowded classroom? He shook his head. It was ridiculous.

"Hey." A soft voice brought Alec out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw a young man with white hair standing in front of him, looking a little concerned.

"Hey," Alec replied, furrowing his brow as he tried to place the other law student. He'd definitely seen that hair before. "You're…."

"Ragnor," he introduced himself. "I don't think we've ever officially met, but you work at the library right?"

"Yes!" That was where he'd seen him. Alec recalled the white-haired student who was in the library seemingly every time he went in, always sitting by the same window with some coffee in hand. "Yes, I've seen you before. I didn't recognize you outside the library. I'm Alec." he finished lamely.

He'd never seen this man up close before, Alec realized as he stood up straight and shook his hand. He had the greenest eyes Alec had ever seen, and he vaguely wondered if they were contacts, seeing as the hair was dyed. His hand was warm, his grip was firm, and he had a kind upward tilt to the corners of his mouth that wasn't quite a smile even though the rest of his expression seemed a bit more guarded.

"That's alright." Ragnor said lightly. "I wasn't sure it was you, to be fair." He gestured at the classroom Alec had just run out of. "Are you going to the moot court meeting?"

"Yes," Alec said hesitantly. "Just a bit out of my comfort zone is all."

Ragnor shrugged. "You and me both," he said, and a real smile spread across his face now.

He had a nice smile, Alec thought to himself, and he followed Ragnor into the classroom.

The meeting started, and Alec once again felt like a fish out of water. He hadn't been entirely sure what moot court was, but he knew it was a mock courtroom setup. What he hadn't anticipated was exactly how many kinds of moot court were available to the students at Columbia Law, and the time commitment that went with it was a big bite out of his schedule.

He felt a bit better as he looked around and realized that Ragnor and a lot of other students in the room looked a bit freaked out as well. At least he wasn't alone.

Ragnor caught his eye briefly and smiled. "It's a lot, huh?"

Alec nodded in agreement. Just then, the meeting finally ended, and the students flooded towards the exit.

"That was more than expected," he told Ragnor. "I'm mostly here because Professor Hodge desperately wanted me to come."

"You've got Hodge for Torts?"

"Yeah, did you have him?"

Ragnor nodded. "Yup, just last year. I'm a 2L now."

"Any advice?" Alec asked. It was always good to see what worked for the upperclassmen.

"Drink lots of caffeine before sitting through one of Hodge's lectures," Ragnor joked. "Last year, a student in the front row ended up actually snoring in the middle of class. Not a good look for a future lawyer."

"I drink enough coffee as it is," Alec commented, matching Ragnor's banter. Maybe you could join me some time, he added silently. He never had the courage to ask someone out, and he had no indication of Ragnor's sexuality anyway. Better to play it cool.

"I understand that life. My roommate will only ever drink hot chocolate. I need the caffeine."

They exited the building together, and Alec debated asking for the man's number briefly before deciding against it. "Nice meeting you," was all he managed.

"You too, Alec." Ragnor replied politely. "I'll see you at the library tomorrow, probably."

He waved down a cab, and Alec made his way over to the subway. Time to go back to managing the three college students and one high schooler that lived in his apartment. Ugh, he still needed to think of what to feed them for dinner….

His phone buzzed as he entered the station.

 _How was your brother's homecoming last night?_

 _ **It's my understanding that it was fun, and his date wasn't upset about the switch to khakis. Thanks again for your advice.**_ Alec sent back quickly.

 _I'll hand out fashion advice any day. You never told me how his pants got ruined, though._

That was true. Alec found his train, and quickly grabbed a seat. It wasn't too crowded, seeing as it was a Sunday and there was no work rush, but Manhattan was always ridiculously busy.

 _ **So, here's how it happened. My middle brother's girlfriend was over, and she was working on a painting project in the living room.**_

 _Why was she doing it in your living room?_

 _ **She lives with her mom, and the project was for her mom, so she didn't want her to find it. My brother told her to just work on it at our place without informing me because who cares about my opinion, right?**_

 _Aw, poor Blue._ Came the teasing response. _And let me guess. If people had listened to you, your brother's suit would have been fine._

 _ **Probably, but who knows? I wasn't home when it happened. He came out into the living room with the pants on and asked for help with the tie. The middle brother went over to help him, tripped, and knocked him into the paints that were sitting on the table.**_

 _I hope either the middle brother or his girlfriend is paying for the dry cleaning._

 _ **I think the girlfriend has suffered enough, seeing as it's her project that got a bit messed up from the accident. My brother definitely owes money.**_

 _Justice is served._

 _ **That's what I strive for.**_

Alec looked up just in time to see that the train was arriving at his stop. That went quicker than usual.

 _How goes that essay of yours?_

Hopping off the train, Alec typed a quick response.

 _ **Not much better tbh. I've outlined it, and written a couple pages, but there's a long way to go.**_

 _God, I'm so glad my student days are over._

 _ **Like majoring in fashion involves a lot of papers?**_

 _More than you'd think, snob._

Alec chuckled. Sure, he didn't know the guy personally, but it was always fun to make fun of college majors.

 _ **I'm sure the ten page papers on the history of high heels really drained you.**_

 _A ten page paper about anything would drain someone._

"Alec!" He looked up to see his sister waving at him as she approached him on the street.

"Hi, Izzy," Alec put his phone away. "Heading home?"

"Yeah, I've got a long paper I need to start. No parties for me tonight," she said, grinning. "Aren't you proud of me?"

"I usually am," Alec replied evenly. He was still a bit mad about her reading his texts again, but it was Izzy. She rarely meant any harm by it.

"Listen, I'm sorry I read through your texts." Izzy said abruptly.

Alec blinked. Had he said that out loud?

"Are you?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes," she huffed. "I thought about it after you left, and I decided it wasn't very cool of me. Clearly, you're becoming friends with this guy, and that deserves privacy."

"This is new," Alec raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you're never gonna meet new people if we make fun of you every time you text someone new," Izzy shrugged. "So, from now on, Dapper is on the no-read list."

"But you're still gonna look at my phone," Alec noted her choice of words drily. He knew it was too good to be true.

"Of course," Izzy responded brightly. "See ya later, big bro!" She punched his shoulder playfully. "And hey, get ready for your birthday celebrations!" she reminded him before skipping off.

Oh, right. His birthday was on Wednesday. Alec had barely thought about what he was going to do for that. He had his usual list of gifts he wanted that he'd emailed out to his family a few days ago, but besides that, he didn't think he'd be celebrating. Then again, Max was living with him, so maybe they should all do something together. He'd have to think about it.

Sighing at the memory of past birthday parties, he continued home.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey, this one actually flowed out of me pretty easily! I know some of y'all are probably retching at the thought of Ragnor and Alec, but don't worry, this is a Malec fic and a Malec fic only. It's all part of my plan.**

 **Hit that review button so I know people are actually reading this story!**

 **~Bobbi**


	8. Intern

**A/N: Just be happy I'm updating less than a year later honestly**

 **Disclaimer: of course i don't own it, I'm not that good of a writer**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Intern**

 _Would you rather know when you die or how you die?_

 _ **Definitely when. There's no point knowing how if you can't change it. Knowing when lets you plan out what you want to accomplish in your life.**_

The Monday morning rush hadn't prevented Magnus from finding a seat on the subway and settling down to have an engaging text conversation. He ignored the glare of the young woman who clearly wanted his seat- hey, it wasn't his problem if she'd chosen to wear heels on the way to work instead of changing shoes at the office like everyone else- and typed back a reply to Blue.

 _Exactly! Knowing how just puts you on edge. That's no way to live life._

 _ **Right? Say you find out you drown. What are you gonna do, just never go to a pool or a beach again? That won't change your fate, and it deprives you of a lot of summertime fun. I'd rather have a timeline for checking off my bucket list.**_

Magnus smiled fondly at Blue's perfectly logical response, especially the emphasis on planning. It was just like him to inject some borderline pessimistic realism into a ridiculous hypothetical question. Looking up, he noted that there were still four more stops until the train reached his office, and that the seething woman had finally turned her attention away from him. That was enough time for another scenario.

 _Your turn for a question._

 _ **Alright…If you could have lunch with anybody, alive or dead, who would it be?**_

 _My grandmother._ Magnus responded, hardly thinking about it.

 _ **Why?**_

He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to give Blue the entirety of his tragic backstory just yet. Deciding against it, he sent a rather vague reply.

 _She played a big role in my childhood, and she died when I was twelve. Looking back, I think there's a lot she never told me about her life and our family history because I was so young, and I'd like to learn it all._

That was hardly the full story, of course. There was his father who'd been a strong contender for "Asshole of the Year" most of the time, his mother who'd died shortly after a difficult childbirth, and his grandmother who'd stood between him and his father's temper for most of his early years. After she died, Magnus had hit puberty and grown tall enough to make his father think twice about laying a hand on him, but that did nothing to stave off the man's other forms of degrading his only child.

The buzz of the phone in his hand drew him out of his thoughts of his dark childhood, and he was startled to realize that there were tears forming his eyes. Blinking them away, he read Blue's response.

 _ **That's a very thoughtful answer.**_

 _Why, thank you. And who would you choose?_

Blue took a bit to reply, no doubt contemplating his options. Magnus' ears pricked up as he heard the smooth subway voice announce the upcoming stop. Only one more stop until he had to get off and go to work.

 _ **I would like to have lunch with Theodore Roosevelt.**_

Of course he would.

 _Why that particular President?_

 _ **Theodore Roosevelt toed the line between insane and hella cool, imo. The National Parks System and trustbusting legislation that exists today is largely due to him. I'd love to hear his take on current issues, see what he thinks of the state of the environment and politics as a whole right now.**_

 _I'm sure that would be a very engaging conversation._

The train finally reached a stop at Times Square. Magnus secured his phone in his shoulder bag and smartly weaved his way through the crowd to make it out of the station as quickly as possible. He knew better than to visibly hold his phone in a busy place like this- that was just asking for it to be snatched.

Finally, once he reached the top of the stairs leading out of the station, he pulled out his phone again. It was a short walk to the office, and he was on track to be on time.

 _ **I certainly think so. I also think he'd love to see himself in the Night at The Museum movies.**_

 _You've got a good point._ Magnus smiled at the thought. _Anyway, I'm about to head into work. Catch ya later?_

 _ **Okay, bye.**_

Magnus tucked his phone away again as he turned into the familiar office building, operating on muscle memory as he flashed his ID and headed for the elevators. His mind was off somewhere, thinking about the conversation he'd just had with his increasingly interesting new friend. Blue was just so… _fun_ to talk to. Magnus had never felt like he could just talk about whatever popped into his head- usually, that ended up annoying his conversation partner. His dad, Camille, even Ragnor, they just couldn't keep up with him a lot of the time. But Blue...Blue didn't just tolerate Magnus' random questions, he actually seemed to enjoy them and come up with some of his own. Magnus couldn't describe how that made him feel, but he knew he wanted to enjoy the feeling for as long as he could.

Raphael greeted him with a smug grin at the door to the design department's offices, same as he always did. "Happy Intern Day," he teased. "Yours seems like she's had her morning coffee.

"I'll make my own assumptions, thank you," Magnus replied dryly. Still, Raphael had confirmed his suspicions- Clarissa Fray was energetic, if nothing else.

He peered around carefully as he made his way towards his cubicle, looking for the loud red hair that marked his intern. There were no college students in sight, but they were definitely in the building- interns couldn't be late on the first day. Oh well, he'd meet her when he met her. Settling down, Magnus turned on his device and cracked his knuckles as he prepared to tackle the new week's work.

"Good morning!" a cheery voice behind him chirped.

Turning in his chair, Magnus saw the face he'd studied over the weekend, complete with an almost blinding smile. Had she been waiting to ambush him? How had he missed her when he was walking over to the cubicle? And...why was she holding so many binders?

"You must be Clarissa," Magnus smiled politely. Reminding himself to show some manners, he stood and held out his hand. "I'm Magnus Bane."

"Nice to meet you." The mass of red curls bobbed up and down as she somehow managed to gather everything she was holding into one arm so she could reach out and shake the hand he offered. "I actually go by Clary, by the way. Sorry I'm a bit late- the interns just got out of our first day meeting," she explained apologetically.

"It's not a problem at all, Clary," Magnus made a mental note about the name. "Here, come with me." He had been a little bit unsure about this part of welcoming the intern, but he decided Clary's energy needed to be expended by walking around. "Let me give you a little tour of the space."

"Oh, we already toured the office this morning, sir. You don't have to do it again!"

Magnus winced at the use of the word "sir". He was maybe five years older than this girl. "It's all right, I've got some places I'd like to show you myself. Feel free to leave your things here, by the way." He gestured at Clary's purse and the various binders she was precariously clutching to her chest.

Heaving a sigh, Clary piled her belongings onto a corner of Magnus' desk. "Thank you," she told him, clearly enjoying not having the weight on her arms anymore. Magnus was able to appraise her outfit now that she wasn't holding onto anything- a typical business casual ensemble consisting of straight cut black slacks, a light blue shirt buttoned up to her chin, tan heels short enough to walk in, and her office ID in a lanyard around her neck. Certainly not ugly by any means, but overall a bit drab for someone working at a fashion magazine.

"Don't mention it," Magnus waved at her to follow him as he spun on his heel. "Just do me a favor and never call me sir again."

Going through the office took half an hour at most, seeing as Clary had already gotten the tour and there wasn't much that Magnus cared to highlight. He reminded her of where the coffee and the office supplies came from- both vital knowledge for an intern- and made some snide remarks about Raphael as the duo passed him in the hallway.

"Isn't that your boss?" Clary whispered with a bit of concern in her voice once Raphael was out of earshot.

"In theory, but I'd like to see him actually fire me, darling." Magnus winked playfully. Hopefully this girl would relax before she made any major stress-induced mistakes.

"Huh," Clary's shoulders seemed to drop. "The work environment in the design department isn't as…tense I thought it would be."

Magnus led her towards the elevator at this point. "I believe the word you're looking for is 'cutthroat', Clarissa. And it often is, but letting it get to you hardly does any good."

"I suppose you're right," Clary smiled a little more genuinely at him this time.

"I think this internship will go a lot more smoothly for you if you learn to take my word as gospel," he joked. The elevator doors opened. "Besides-"

Magnus' next sentence died in his throat as he slowly recognized who exactly was in the elevator.

"Hey, Simon!" Clary's voice barely managed to slide into the midst of his thoughts, and he vaguely registered his intern stepping forward and hugging the brown-haired man standing next to Camille.

She looked the same- maybe even better than before- and he caught a whiff of the same rose perfume that had permeated every corner of his own closet. Her blood red lips twitched once as he stepped into the elevator alongside Clary, and he saw her perfectly lined eyes twinkle a little in amusement at his reaction.

"Sorry, I'm being so rude- Simon, this is my supervisor, Magnus." Clary's voice interrupted his trance more firmly this time, and he turned to see the brown-haired man reaching out his hand with a smile. He had a camera around his neck that Magnus hadn't noticed before. "Magnus, this is my friend Simon! He's been interning with the photography department here since last fall."

"Glad to hear it," Magnus shook the young man's hand with his smile back in place. "We've got an amazing department at Seasons- would you mind hitting the top floor for us please?"

"Oh, of course," Simon drew his hand back and pressed the button. "By the way, this is Camille," he awkwardly tilted his head at his female companion. "She's a new model I'm working with for my portfolio."

New model? Magnus knew Camille had wanted to work at Seasons as a model, but she'd been rejected on three separate occasions. It had actually been a sticking point in their relationship that he wouldn't "pull strings" to get her the job. How had she gotten in now?

"We've met," Camille said idly as Magnus once again turned his attention to her. It was so difficult to not be distracted by the curve-hugging black dress she was wearing…"Nice to see you, Mags."

Still, there was no time to dwell on the mysteries of her career path. Camille had spoken to him, using that _nickname_ to needle him about their breakup, and Magnus would be damned if he reacted like a brokenhearted fool in front of these two interns watching their interaction. "You too, Camille," he replied with a smile that was a bit too wide, hoping he looked calmer than he felt. "Glad to hear that the job finally worked out."

Maybe he couldn't resist one little dig.

Camille's expression didn't change, but he noticed the twinkle in her eyes change into a flash of irritation. However, any comeback she'd had in mind was stopped by the elevator doors opening once again.

"Ah, this is our stop. I'll catch you later, Clary," Simon squeezed in between Magnus and Camille as he exited. "Camille, we've only got 45 minutes in the studio."

Camille hummed in acknowledgement of the photographer's reminder. "Ciao," she winked at Magnus and Clary, eyes lingering for a moment before the doors closed and put her out of view.

Magnus was careful not to look relieved as the elevator continued upwards, instead turning his attention back to Clary. "Your friend must be talented to be a returning intern," he commented, deciding not to acknowledge the conversation with Camille at all.

Clary seemed to be lost in thought before Magnus' words registered. Perhaps he hadn't been as casual with Camille as he'd aimed to be. "Oh, Simon is super talented! He took all of our friends' graduation photos in high school, and it's just been getting better since then."

"Did he tell you to apply here?"

"Yeah, a few people said I would be a good intern here, so I decided to throw my name in even though I don't have any fashion-specific experience." Clary shrugged. "I actually had a brother who worked in the design department, but I don't know if they cared about that."

Magnus' eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He remembered reading that she had a relative here, but he hadn't thought it was someone in the department she applied to. "Really?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't work there anymore. I think he might be in sales or something now."

The elevator finally reached the top, opening to reveal an empty roof.

"I actually got my start in sales," Magnus remarked. It was a bit cool out seeing as it was still morning, but he found it bracing. "I interned there when I was a senior, came on full-time for a couple of years, and finally managed to get transferred into design like I wanted all along."

"How long have you been in design?" Clary asked politely.

Magnus gestured for her to take a seat at one of the rooftop tables, planting himself across from her. "A little over a year," he said, flashing a wry smile. "And in that time, I've managed to establish myself as the department expert on women's footwear."

"That doesn't seem that bad." Clary wiggled her own high heels meaningfully. "There are a lot of shoes out there."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Trust me, darling, after staring at pictures of every kind of footwear imaginable for months on end, you'll be hard-pressed to find a shoe that doesn't remind you of this job."

"Is that what I'm going to be doing? Helping you create pieces about women's footwear?"

Magnus leaned back in his chair and tucked his arms behind his head. Her nerves seemed to have worn off now, and he was getting a better sense of the personality underneath. "I just turned in my last project, a spread for our issue that's coming out next week. Now, I start putting together ideas and pitches about winter fashion to prepare for the December issue. My goal is to get assigned another individual spread, and hopefully this time it'll be about something more riveting than boots, and I'll receive that assignment in a little over a month from now. Then, I go through the same process of drafting and editing over and over until it's time for the December issue to be released."

Clary blinked at him. "What ideas do you have for the December issue?"

Magnus waved off her question. "That's not relevant to you, Clarissa. I'd ask what you want to get out of this internship, but I imagine you've answered some variation of that question 20 times to actually be able to step foot in this building. So instead, I'll ask you this- why did you choose to intern here when you admit you don't know that much about fashion instead of one of the dozen other places that must have accepted a talented artist such as yourself?"

The question hung in the air for a few minutes, before she finally brought herself to answer.

"I just had a feeling." Her eyes didn't quite meet Magnus, instead wandering off to the skyline. "I obviously thought being here would push me out of my comfort zone, expose me to great art, all the things you expect from a good internship, but I also just had this feeling. I felt like I needed to be here, and so many people were pushing me to it, so I figured I might as well."

She wasn't telling the whole story- that much was clear when she wouldn't look at Magnus. He was tempted to press further, maybe ask about her brother, but she hadn't offered up the name and he wasn't about to be that nosy on the first day.

"So, what do you feel about your fashion-forward supervisor?" Magnus stretched his arms above his head as he asked, biting back a yawn. He hadn't even been at work for an hour, he had no business feeling sleepy this quickly.

"Oh, I feel like I should be taking his word as gospel," Clary smiled.

"Keep it up and you'll have a hell of a recommendation at the end of the year," Magnus winked. "You seem smart, Clary. I'll be exactly as much of a mentor as you want me to be. Show a little initiative, and I might even get my own coffee from the kitchen. I think you and I can make this an internship for the history books."

"Really?"

"No." Clary's face fell. "I don't drink the coffee at work. If anything, I'd make you go to Starbucks for me." Magnus grinned again, standing up. "Come on, I think I've had enough time to figure out what I want you to be working on for the first day. Just remember this roof is here when you need to get away from the idiots of the design department."

"Does that include the other interns?" Clary asked as she followed him into the elevator.

"Darling, that usually refers exclusively to the interns."

Clary laughed at that, the first real laugh he'd gotten out of her all morning, and Magnus finally felt like the ice was broken.

"So, what am I going to be working on for the first day?"

"Something absolutely vital to my day," Magnus said importantly. "Write this down. Once you exit this office from the main doors, the closest Starbucks is two buildings to the right…"

By the time he was done rattling off his coffee order, they'd reached the design department office once again, Clary typing frantically the whole time.

"This should cover it," Magnus handed her a twenty dollar bill before stepping out of the elevator. "Bring me back the change and some thoughts on patterned winter coats."

"You got it, boss!" Clary waved as the doors closed once again.

Magnus hummed to himself as he walked back to his cubicle, feeling much better at the thought of caffeine on its way. He'd give her something real to work on when she came back, maybe revising one of his older design projects that had never been published, but he couldn't resist messing with her just a little first.

Speaking of messing with people, Magnus smirked, he hadn't paid Jonathan a visit since he'd successfully beaten him out of the September issue. Deciding he could take a little detour for the sake of a rivalry, he turned and headed over to Jonathan's cubicle on the other side of the room.

When he arrived, he had to take a couple of minutes to be sure he was in the right place. The cubicle was bare- clean desk, personal effects taken down, every trace of Jonathan gone.

"This is definitely not your cubicle, Bane." Raphael suddenly appeared behind him. "Where have you been? It's been nearly an hour."

"I know you're obsessed with me Raf, but there's no need to track my every movement," Magnus shot back smoothly. "Just showing my new intern the ropes. What happened to Jonathan here? I had a question for him about the September issue." He could barely hide the smugness in his voice.

Raphael raised an eyebrow. "You didn't hear? He got transferred to Sales. About time, too."

Magnus tried not to let his surprise play across his face. "I had no idea."

"Well, now you know. So, stop trying to show off and start working to keep your place in this department." Raphael remarked with no real venom in his voice. "Being better than Jonathan is not that high of a bar, but being better than _Edge_ might be a little difficult for you."

" _Edge_?" Magnus frowned. "Why are we worried about them? They release on an entirely different schedule than we do."

Raphael sighed loudly. "Do you not know _anything_?"

"I was under the impression that it was your job to tell me these things," came the dry response.

"Come on," Raphael gestured for Magnus to follow him away from Jonathan's cubicle. " _Edge_ moved up their release date,' he told Magnus in a low voice. "We're not sure when exactly since their whole thing is they don't announce when they're releasing a new issue, but it might be as early as next week."

"That would cut into our sales," Magnus realized.

"Exactly, and we have no idea how they managed to move up the release date that quickly considering they always plan to release three or four weeks after we do." Raphael shook his head. "Of course, that's hardly your concern," he reminded Magnus as they reached his cubicle. "Changing their release date doesn't make _Edge_ any better of a magazine, but our designers slacking off might."

"I get it, Raf. Since when do I slack off?" Magnus half-joked.

Raphael rolled his eyes and wandered off to find someone else to scold, and Magnus slumped down in his seat. How had their biggest rival managed to change their schedule so drastically in such little time? There were just so many strange things happening at _Seasons_ that day…

"I'm back!" Clary planted the frappuccino and change on Magnus' desk, right next to the pile of her belongings she'd left behind earlier. "I have some thoughts on patterned winter coats as well, if you still want them."

"Of course, Clarissa. Take a minute to put your things away, though." Magnus tilted his head at the precariously balanced stack of binders.

Clary obediently gathered everything up and ran off to the intern desks that were in the next room. Magnus watched her go, sipping his frappuccino as he processed everything he'd learned that morning.

Hadn't Clary said her brother had moved from design to sales?

It could've been a coincidence, granted, but Magnus couldn't think of anyone else who'd made the switch from design to sales in the four years he'd been working at the company. There were people who'd been moved out of design to other departments before, but not sales. He doubted Clary would have mentioned her brother working in design if he'd switched departments over four years ago.

And the question remained, what exactly had brought Clary Fray to _Seasons_ when she didn't even care for fashion that much?

It was clear that he had to be on guard until he knew more about her, Magnus decided as he put down the sweet drink. It was too much of a coincidence for so much to be happening at the office on the same day his new intern had shown up.

* * *

 **A/N: Maybe I'm getting a little too caught up in the subplot involving Magnus' work life, but I promise you it all comes together in the end. After all, Clary is another connection between Magnus and Alec now.**

 **Sorry there wasn't as much Malec content this chapter, but I needed to build the foundation for Clary's role in pushing the plot forward. Plus, it might just be, but I've always been a fan of Magnus' friendships with the Shadowhunter girls. I'm gonna make up for it with a real cute moment next chapter, I promise!**

 **~Bobbi**


End file.
